


Look Me In the Eye

by 3RatMoon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cultural Differences, Feudal Nonsense, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Golden Deer Ferdinand von Aegir, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3RatMoon/pseuds/3RatMoon
Summary: Ferdinand went to war for his people, but he also went to war for Claude von Riegan. When you are a noble, that makes things complicated.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you fall for a rare pair and you have to make the content you wish to see for it... please enjoy this wild ride lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emetophobia warning for this chapter. To skip, start at paragraph starting "Ferdinand nodded weakly", then start reading again at "I was always terrible at keeping secrets."

Ferdinand arrived in Derdriu dirty and singed with some two-hundred people in tow.

Claude likely was expecting him. Ferdinand and his people moved slowly and obviously, making the trek through Glouchster and northwards. By the time he arrived in the Alliance capital, news of what happened to Aegir should have made it ahead of him.

They would be the first refugees to arrive in Derdriu, which meant one of two things. Either, the Alliance would refuse them, still hedging their bets with the coming war, or they would welcome them with open arms, not yet overwhelmed by the displaced yet to come. Ferdinand hoped it was the latter.

He left his people outside the borders of the city and went on to the castle with a handful of his most trusted— Natan, Alberic, Harriet, and his personal guard, Raimer. He showed his crest at the gates, and he was allowed inside. Ferdinand allowed himself a little sigh of relief. They knew he was coming, and they didn’t consider him hostile, yet.

Once inside the castle, he was surprised to find Lorenz there to greet him.

“You rode ahead of us with the news, I take it?” Ferdinand asked, clasping forearms with the man.

“I did. We got word that Aegir had been sacked hardly a day before you were spotted on our borders.” Lorenz frowned a little, and lowered his voice. “I am sorry that we weren’t able to provide you proper hospitality. Glouchster is in a precarious place, you understand.”

Ferdinand shook his head. “There’s no need to explain yourself. I understand. You have those you must protect as much as I do.”

At that, some of the tension in Lorenz’s shoulders eased. “I am truly glad to have you here, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” he said. “Come, the Roundtable is in session. You should be able to meet with everyone.”

The roundtable room at Castle Riegan was, like many ruling places in Fodlan, larger than necessary. The ceiling was vaulted, with the wooden beams stained dark in contrast with the beige stone and white plaster. Carpets and tapestries brought color into the space as well as tamed some of the echo, but voices still carried.

Being able to make his case before the entirety of the Leicester Alliance roundtable turned out to be a double-edged sword. No one House could claim that they hadn’t been heard on the matter, but the back and forth drew on and on in a way that Ferdinand, travel-worn and on edge as he was, struggled with severely.

“Taking on Von Aegir and his people could help rally support for our cause,” said Claude. He was out of his Academy uniform but still dressed in black and gold, the symbol of the Alliance over one shoulder. “It marks the Empire as the bad guys for expelling their own, and us the benevolent leaders who let them take refuge with us.”

“Don’t forget who the Empire is going to march through first, should they find us rallying too aggressively,” said an irritated Count Ordelia.

“It takes resources to gather armies, more to gather them in secret,” said Lord Holst Goneril. “Are we willing to spend these resources on refugees?”

“A mere two-hundred people—” Lorenz protested, even though he had nodded along with Count Ordelia’s point.

“And there will be more to come!” Goneril shot back. “You may not understand because your border has been peaceful all these years, Glouchster, but the Emperor has declared  _ war _ .”

“I understand  _ plenty, _ ” Lorenz growled.

“Do not forget, I am more than willing to fight,” Ferdinand interjected.

“With soldiers who are mostly stuck on the other side of the Bridge of Myrddin!” said Ordelia.

Claude waved a hand. “It is true, more refugees will likely come to Derdriu as the war goes on, but rarely do they give us the political opportunity that Von Aegir does. And I already have some ideas on how we can smuggle those soldiers across the borders.”

Claude grinned, and it reminded Ferdinand of the very first time he had sat with the Golden Deer for a strategy exercise. As he watched Claude’s plan unfold over the map, he realized that, given enough time, he might come to follow that man just about anywhere.

Ferdinand stood from his chair.

“I, Ferdinand Von Aegir, in the name of my broken House, my crest, my one-hundred and fifty people and four-hundred and fifty soldiers, would like to pledge my fealty to the Leicester Alliance and its Sovereign Duke.”

* * *

“What?! You’re joining the Golden Deer?” Bernadetta squeaked.

Ferdinand sat at the dining hall with the other Black Eagles. It was rare for all of them to be together outside of class, so it felt like the best time to make his announcement.

“But why?” asked Caspar mid-bite. “Out of everyone, you’re probably the most ‘Rah, rah, the Empire is great!’”

“There is benefit to seeing how the other half lives, Caspar,” Ferdinand answered easily. “The Empire as it is now functions quite similarly to the Alliance, so as the future Prime Minister, it may be helpful to learn more about their governmental workings.”

“I’m sure the new professor has a draw, as well,” said Lindhart airily. “They already stole Felix from the Blue Lions, and word is that they’ve been putting in the time to learn more advanced heavy armor techniques.”

“Or perhaps Von Aegir simply thinks himself better than us,” said a voice that immediately put Ferdinand on edge.

Hubert was sitting next to Edelgard, as he always was, his eyes boring holes in Ferdinand’s head. They had never much liked each other, but they had settled into a strange dance. This was not Hubert’s usual cruelty. There was something new in his gaze that made Ferdinand unable to meet his eyes.

Puffing up his chest, Ferdinand said, “The Professor was another factor, yes. Our specialties align, and I have heard the other students sign their praises. I do not think I am better that you, but rather I am seeking out the opportunity to be  _ my _ best, which, as future Prime Minister—”

“Oh, Ferdie,” Dorothea cooed. “You know we will all miss you  _ so much, _ right?”

Ferdinand let the interruption slide, as well as the blatant insincerity in Dorothea’s sweet voice. “I will miss our companionship as well, but I have determined that it is for the best.”

Edelgard, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, simply said, “I wish you the best in your endeavors, Ferdinand.”

Long after other topics had come to replace his, however, Ferdinand could feel her watching him with her look that seemed to strip him down to his essential parts, studying him. He wondered not for the first time what she truly thought of him.

However, as he looked up and across the hall to where the Golden Deer sat, talking and joking with each other, he found that he was not as bothered by Edelgard’s stare, or Hubert’s disdain, or Dorothea’s mockery. He imagined himself at that table, laughing along with them. He was genuine when he said he would miss the companionship of the Black Eagles, but those moments always seemed few and far between. The Golden Deer seemed like they might truly be friends. With time, they would be his friends, too.

And their leader… Claude von Riegan a tactician whose plans seemed as foolhardy as they were brilliant. A young man who seemed to come out of nowhere with claims to inherit the title of Sovereign Duke. His green eyes were bright and calculating, but he had such a way with people, as well.

Ferdinand very much looked forward to getting to know him, as well.

* * *

Ferdinand stayed with Claude in Derdriu for the entirety of the war. They were not able to get more than another fifty of the Aegir soldiers across the border before they were drafted into the Empire’s armies, and moreover, much of the fighting was limited to minor skirmishes, mostly in Faerghus after the coup, so Ferdinand had to find other ways to be useful. The other members of the Alliance roundtable hadn’t been pleased by his stunt of pledging his fealty, but it had been enough to win them over into accepting him and his people, and he wasn’t about to make them regret their decision.

After that fateful meeting had ended, Claude had come over to Ferdinand and clapped a hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder.

“That was a gutsy move, there, Von Aegir,” he said warmly.

Ferdinand grinned. “Coming from you, that is high praise.”

Claude laughed at that. But then, his smile fell, and he looked almost concerned. “Just as long as you understand the risks. What you said you can’t exactly take back.”

“I know what I said,” Ferdinand replied, drawing himself up. “Edelgard offered me a position as a figurehead, and I refused. If I am to follow anyone, I want to follow you.”

For a moment, Claude looked genuinely surprised. Then again, his hand landed on Ferdinand’s shoulder, warm, and he looked in Ferdinand’s eyes and said, “I will do everything in my power to keep being someone you want to follow.”

The business Claude had lead him away from Derdriu often, so Ferdinand ended up serving as a retainer, making sure things run smoothly in Claude’s absence. It was difficult— people did not trust him, and it turned out, did not trust Claude, either. Still, Ferdinand persisted. He learned the personalities and situations of each of the Lords. He spoke his heart as much as he could manage, reiterated his devotion over and over. Eventually, he thought that maybe, he had gained some of their trust.

One day, Claude was gone on another mission, and Ferdinand had an appointment with one of Von Edmund’s men. He set himself up in the reception room of Castle Riegan. He was wearing an emerald green jacket Claude had kindly gotten tailored for him, since he had come to Derdriu with little more than what was on his back. The color emphasized the fiery brightness of his hair, which was beginning to crest his shoulders. More than that, the jacket reminded him of Claude’s generosity, their bond, and the thought bolstered Ferdinand’s determination. When Von Edmund’s man arrived, he stood and shook his hand, smiling brightly, knowing that Claude supported him, and he would do the same for Claude.

The man, a Bishop and the brother of a minor Lord, sat across from him. He was middle-aged with thinning slate-blue hair cut short, and his expression was outright grim. It reminded Ferdinand of the Faerghans, his dowerness. Perhaps it was the cold— Von Edmund’s territory was to the north end of the Alliance, after all. Of course, none of these thoughts Ferdinand voiced out loud. Instead, he smiled and put on his best hosting voice.

“It is so good to meet with you, Bishop,” he said. “I know these are difficult times. I am honored that you have taken time for me.”

“You speak as if I was not the one who requested this meeting,” said the Bishop with a small smile.

Ferdinand laughed. “Indeed! Well, first things first, would you like some tea?”

Ferdinand started to reach for the set, white porcelain with delicate pegasi dancing over a landscape far below, but then the Bishop’s hand reached out as well, stopping him.

“Please, allow me,” the Bishop said. “I am a guest, but I am also the second son of a minor House.”

Puzzled, Ferdinand nodded and withdrew his hands. “Is it an Alliance tradition?” he asked. He did not think to point out that his own house was all but powerless.

The Bishop poured for Ferdinand, then himself. “Of sorts. The Alliance does not have a King or an Emperor, but there are still hierarchies.”

Ferdinand felt a vague discomfort with that statement, something beneath the words that he couldn’t yet parse.

“I find that I am unfamiliar with you,” said the Bishop. “Are you a devout man?”

Ferdinand sighed with quiet relief. This conversation was quickly returning to where he was expecting it to go, and he was prepared. “Quite. I can’t always make it to the cathedral in the city, but I often go to the chapel here to pray. I’m quite fond of the likeness of Saint Cichol there. Have you seen it?”

The Bishop nodded. “In the icon, he is backed by the Oghma Mountains.”

“The very same!” Ferdinand said, beaming. “Once, when I was younger, I went on a several day trek up through the Oghma Mountains. I always associated Saint Cichol with great heights, and when I was near the peak of my journey, looking down over Fodlan below…” Ferdinand gave a great sigh, as if he was breathing the same mountain air. “It was a spiritual experience. I will never forget it.”

The Bishop nodded again. “I am not surprised that you feel a connection to Saint Cichol, considering that you carry his crest.” He looked up from his tea, to Ferdinand. “Though, the Emperor carries the crest of Seiros, yet seems to hold no love for her Church.”

Ferdinand winced inwardly. He could certainly parse the point behind  _ that _ comment. He made himself sit a little taller and said, “As Lord Von Edmund has undoubtedly heard many times, I intend to rise above my peers and take on every aspect of what it means to be a noble— a protector of the people, a champion of peace while adept at war, and yes, devout.”

His voice wavered a moment, for as he spoke, he felt a strange sensation come over him, like a veil, but he forged onwards. He looked at the Bishop, and his blue eyes seemed sharper. Ferdinand found he couldn’t look away without some effort. Finished with his statement, the silence seemed suffocating. He reached for his teacup for something to do.

“Were you close to the Emperor, at all?” the Bishop asked.

Ferdinand laughed. “Hardly. We hadn’t even met until I was sixteen. I immediately declared her my rival, since I was to be Prime Minister and she was to be Emperor, and I thought that’s how things went. I might have had a bit of a crush on her. But, she mostly ignored me, even at the Academy.”

It was a bit more information than he normally would have divulged, but the Bishop didn’t seem bothered by his prattling.

“And Duke Von Riegan?” the Bishop asked. “You first met him at the Academy, yes? What was he like, then?”

“Much like he is now, I imagine,” Ferdinand said, easily. “Younger and with fewer cares, I suppose. He liked to play pranks on his classmates, including me, but it was nothing harmful.”

The Bishop poured Ferdinand more tea, and he took it. “How was he as a leader?” the Bishop asked.

“Absolutely brilliant,” Ferdinand said, beaming. “His tactics showed creativity and cunning, and he truly took the time to cultivate the relationships he had with each of us. He was nothing like Edelgard, who simply expected to be followed. He wanted people to  _ want _ to follow him. Claude was probably half the reason why I transferred to the Golden Deer House.”

“So, then, when you came to Derdriu…”

“It was because I knew Claude was my best chance at protecting my people, yes.”

The Bishop considered him for a long moment. He seemed frustrated by something. Ferdinand was finding it harder and harder to look away.

“And there is no other reason why you came to seek asylum in the Alliance?”

Just for a moment, the haze broke, and Ferdinand sat up. “Just what are you implying?”

The Bishop’s face remained impassive. “Is there any other reason why you came to Derdriu?” he repeated.

“No!” Ferdinand shouted. “I came to Derdriu because I had my entire  _ life _ pulled out from under me, and Claude was my only hope at preserving whatever I had left! Don’t you understand that?”

He was starting to feel sick to his stomach. Perhaps he had drank too much tea. Fruit blends tended to do that to him.

Hadn’t he ordered Angelica tea?

The Bishop’s hands came down on the table. His face was twisted into a grimace, and his eyes were too sharp and painful to look at.

“That can’t be all!” the Bishop shouted. “Do you have any spies in the Alliance?”

“No! All of Aegir’s agents were under my father! I didn’t know anything about them!” Something was wrong. He should refuse to even answer such an insult, but the words felt like they were being pulled from his throat. “What did you do to me?”

The Bishop was leaning in, snarling. “Do you have any loyalty still to the Empire? Do you intend to harm the Alliance in any way?”

Multiple things happened, then. The Bishop reached forward, his hand closing around Ferdinand’s cravat. The door to the reception room burst open, several guards filing in, followed by Claude. A couple of the guards separated Ferdinand and the Bishop.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, questioning my man like that?” Claude asked. “Don’t try to deny it. I heard everything.”

Ferdinand leaned heavily against the back of the couch, clutching his stomach. “Claude... you’re back early.”

Claude turned to look at Ferdinand, his brow furrowing. He kneeled in front of him, looking closer. He put a hand to Ferdinand’s brow.

“You’re burning up,” he said.

Immediately, he turned to the table, where the tea set was sitting. He dipped a finger in Ferdinand’s cup and put it in his mouth.

“Veritasia,” he said, and turned to where the Bishop stood, two guards flanking him.

“I see,” Claude said, his voice calm and furious in a way Ferdinand had never heard before. “You thought you could use a truth poison on my friend, and you were  _ so _ certain that you would get dirt on him that it didn’t matter if you got caught.”

“He didn’t get anything,” Ferdinand managed. “Just the truth.”

Ferdinand saw just the flash of a grin on Claude’s face before he turned back to the Bishop. “Sucks to be you, huh?”

The Bishop scowled at Claude and did not stop, even as he was led away.

Ferdinand started to stand, but the dizziness overcame him. Claude just managed to catch him.

“Whoa! Hey there, friend, don’t get carried away,” he said.

“I was careless,” Ferdinand grunted. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Ferdie, I know you may think that, or else you wouldn’t have been able to say it, but it really is okay,” he said. “I’ve had an eye on Von Edmund for a while. I knew he was up to something, though I wasn’t exactly expecting this.”

“But you expected something?” Ferdinand asked.

Claude made a face that Ferdinand didn’t know how to interpret. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room. I’ll explain on the way.”

It turned out that while Ferdinand had no spies to speak of, Claude had plenty, and one had tipped Claude off while he was on his mission, identifying Ferdinand as the target. Claude was able to connect that to the appointment with the Bishop, and changed his schedule.

“I knew that Von Edmund wanted to expose you, not hurt you, but I wanted to be here for it anyway, just in case. And I’m glad it was,” he said.

Ferdinand nodded weakly from his place laying down on his bed. Then, abruptly, he turned over and retched. Claude already had a basin for him, and he held Ferdinand’s hair out of the way while he vomited.

“It’s okay, your body is just reacting to the poison,” Claude said soothingly. He rubbed Ferdinand’s back. “You’ll be sick and truthful for a little while, but then you’ll be fine.”

Ferdinand wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. He looked at Claude, who had a smile on his face, but a small concerned crease in his brow.

“I always was terrible at keeping secrets,” he said.

Claude’s smile dropped. “No, Ferdinand, you don’t have to say anything—”

He stopped when Ferdinand put up a hand. “I want to say this. I don’t feel forced,” Ferdinand said.

Claude sat back. “Alright.”

Ferdinand took a breath, then started again.

“I was always terrible at keeping secrets,” he said. “I suspect that is why my father never involved me in his endeavours. Now I’m starting to believe that I never did want to be involved—” He shared a look with Claude, who nodded in grim agreement. Ferdinand had recovered one of his father’s journals in the sacking of Aegir, and some of the things he wrote about… “ — but at the time, I hated it. I tried to turn it into a strength, perhaps to show him or spite him. After all, if I was completely open about who I was, my peers would be forced to play fair with me. I became blackmail-proof, in a way.”

Ferdinand looked up at Claude. “However, in order to keep that strength, I cannot hold anyone else’s secrets, either. And I… sometimes, I regret that.”

Claude touched Ferdinand’s shoulder, smoothed his hand down his back. “Ferdie, you’ve been doing a great job here. I mean it. I think it’s brilliant that you found that strength. It’s part of why I chose you to take care of things while I’m off scheming my schemes.”

Ferdinand took in a shaking breath. He was starting to feel nauseous again, but he didn’t want this conversation to be interrupted. “You carry such a weight, even if I can’t see it. I wish I could help carry some of it, that’s all.”

“You  _ do _ ,” Claude said, his hand still on Ferdinand’s back. “You can’t help carry the secrets maybe, but you help keep the Alliance together, and you help me. You’ve been working harder than the rest of the roundtable put together!”

That finally pulled a weak laugh from Ferdinand.

Claude looked Ferdinand in the eyes. “Do you believe me, now?”

Ferdinand smiled a little, nodded. “I am starting to.”

Claude smiled back. “I’m glad. I have to go take care of a few things here in the city. Will you be alright on your own?”

“I believe so,” Ferdinand said.

Claude stood up from his chair, then, his hand lingering just a moment on Ferdinand’s shoulder before he stepped away.

“You take care,” he said. “Call someone if you need help, alright?”

“Alright,” Ferdinand said. “Take care as well, Claude.”

Claude smiled over his shoulder, something soft and more genuine than Ferdinand realized he had seen before. “Will do.”

After he left, Ferdinand laid down again, staring at the beams in the ceiling. He must have been feeling vulnerable because of the poison, but the whole conversation, that last smile…

Suddenly, Ferdinand was afraid of what he would have said had the Bishop questioned him about Claude then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for alcohol use in this chapter, starting with the paragraph beginning "One night, after a successful skirmish..."

Everything was different after the incident with the truth poison. It showed itself in little ways. Ferdinand would find himself seeking out Claude’s company, only to flee from it not long after. Ferdinand would avoid Claude’s gaze, even while checking to see if he was looking. Ferdinand would bask in Claude’s praise only to feel horribly guilty afterwards.

Ferdinand had crushes before, of course. He would enjoy the feeling while it lasted, then move on when it faded. He had nothing to offer any of these people, after all. His one, long-term partner would largely be chosen for him, a bargaining chip in the various exchanges between the noble houses.

Even so, with Claude, he found himself day-dreaming about courting him. Claude was a high-ranking noble in the Alliance, after all. Perhaps, after the war was over, a marriage would be just the thing to solidify good will between nations. They could get a surrogate to help them birth an heir, like commoners did sometimes.

But then, who would be the father? They could take turns, perhaps, but which child would be the heir? Would either of their houses be able to accept an heir not of their blood? Ferdinand’s fantasies quickly crumbled around him.

He tried to shift his focus. They were at war, after all. The border was still relatively peaceful, but the Kingdom was in shambles, and there was no telling when the Empire would decide to set their sights on conquering the Alliance next. When that happened, Ferdinand would start coming along on Claude’s campaigns, with all the risk involved in battle. He ought to stop thinking of marriage, he thought, because he may not survive long enough to get married at all.

Still, the thought of Claude needled at him.

One time, Claude caught Ferdinand staring. They were talking about distribution of surplus grain from the harvest, and Ferdinand was watching Claude talk more than he was listening to his words. Claude’s olive skin had deepened into a golden tan during his travels, and he had started to cultivate a beard. It made Ferdinand think of how his hair was steadily crawling down his back, though the change in Claude’s appearance was at least partially intentional, and, Ferdinand thought, more well done.

“Hey, Ferdie, you there, friend?” Claude’s voice cut through Ferdinand’s reverie, startling him.

“Oh! Oh, my apologies, Claude, I was lost in thought.”

Claude smiled, clearly intrigued. “Oh? What were you thinking about?”

Ferdinand panicked under Claude’s attention, feeling heat rise to his face.

Claude laughed. “Oh, you’re blushing! It’s so funny how you can do that. You can hardly tell on me.” He rested his head on a hand, amused. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s something embarrassing, I promise. Though I  _ do _ want to know.”

“No it’s alright, I…” Ferdinand floundered for something close to the truth. “I was just thinking about how we have changed over the years.”

Claude’s eyes sparkled. “Well, now you  _ have _ to tell me more.”

Ferdinand smiled even as he turned his face away, embarrassed. “Claude…” he admonished.

“Come on, tell me!” Claude persisted. “How have I changed? Have I become more handsome?”

_ “Claude!” _

Claude laughed at that, a full belly laugh, and Ferdinand felt warmth blossom in his chest.

“Well that’s one, I suppose,” he said. Claude turned to him, eyebrow raised, but Ferdinand found it easy to continue speaking once he had started. “You didn’t used to laugh like that. I mean, you laughed plenty, but not freely like that. Besides that, well, you look more tired, of course, but you also seem more confident. Quietly confident, not just speaking confidence, if that makes sense.”

Claude had grown quiet, watching Ferdinand as he spoke. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face again. “You’ve changed, too,” he said. “You’ve gotten more perceptive. Or, maybe the other parts of you have quieted down enough for that part to shine.”

Ferdinand grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Claude clapped a hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder. “You should! We really ought to figure out what to do with these surpluses, though.”

Things began to shift in the fifth year of the war. There started to be more skirmishes in Alliance territory— small groups that could be denied as any real invasion but were still enough to terrorize the locals. Claude started to take Ferdinand on campaign sometimes, rather than leaving him in Derdriu. Ferdinand found it refreshing in some ways, to travel, to find other ways to prove himself to the Alliance roundtable.

Of course, the reality was as horrible as any battle. Ferdinand saw a part of himself rise up that he had forgotten since the Academy. He had thought it was simply adrenaline, but with five more years and several more battles under his belt, it was easy to see that he suffered a kind of battle madness. Something shifted in him after the first contact with the enemy, and he found himself relishing in each blow he felt hit home. The bloodlust that rose in him would not abate, then, until sometimes hours after the battle was over. He never felt the urge to turn on his allies, but he was still more than a little unsettled by the knowledge of his condition.

Still, he was a noble, and adept at war, so Claude kept taking him.

It so happened that it was on one of the missions that Ferdinand fell into bed with someone for the first time.

He was an older man, one of the archers fighting under the Riegan banner. Ferdinand had gotten into conversation with him during dinner and found him engaging. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was being flirted with, but once he understood, he realized that he was quite amenable. The other man was kind and patient with him, but devious as well, and he expected nothing from Ferdinand besides the night they spent together. Ferdinand couldn’t have asked for a better first experience. He was near heartbroken when he heard that the man had lost one of his arms in the battle, but he was too busy to visit him, and too ashamed to admit why this one soldier’s loss affected him so.

It was a while before Ferdinand went to bed with someone again, but it did happen. In fact, over the fifth year of the war, he would have four more encounters of the kind.

Ferdinand set for himself a few rules regarding his dalliances. He would take no chance of fathering a bastard. He would keep encounters to one or two nights at most. He would be discreet and expect the same of his partners. He would not choose anyone who was under his direct command. And, first and foremost above all, he would not sleep with anyone who he possibly felt romantic towards, or who possibly felt romantically towards him.

Following these rules, Ferdinand felt comfortable with what he was doing. It was not becoming of a noble as he had grown up knowing, but as he was coming to understand, life itself was rarely so starkly black and white, and especially not war. It made him happy to learn how to use his body not as a weapon for once, but as a tool of pleasure, and rarely did he sleep as well as when he was in bed with another. These two small things helped to stem the tide of horror that was the war.

Sometimes, Ferdinand wondered if Claude was able to allow himself as much. It was a dangerous thought, one that made Ferdinand’s stomach tighten when he followed it, but it didn’t change the fact that he was worried for his friend. Claude was rarely seen outside the war tent, constantly studying maps and writing letters to various connections. Ferdinand suspected that he did not sleep much. Claude looked as sure and easy-going as he always did, but Ferdinand saw the dark circles under his eyes and the strain at the corners of his mouth.

One night, after a successful skirmish with an Empire militia masquerading as a group of bandits, Ferdinand finally got to see Claude relax a little. Lorenz had sent some Gloucester wine as a thanks for the last time they had routed bandits for them, and Claude had brought it with to celebrate after their latest victory. Ferdinand imagined that Claude found it funny to drink wine that normally only saw crystal goblets in their tin soldier's cups. The metal rang with a dull cheer when they toasted, and Claude let out a little chuckle.

"So, how does campaign treat you, compared to office life?" he asked after a sip of wine.

"As well as regularly exposing one's self to bodily harm can, I suppose," Ferdinand replied with a grin. "Though, one discounts how psychological battle can be, just as the toll office duty has on the body can be discounted. Sitting on a chair all day isn't as bad as riding, but my arse still hurts sometimes!"

Claude laughed his loud laugh, and Ferdinand smiled.

"Wise words, my friend!" Claude said.

With another thought, Ferdinand raised his cup. "A toast to Lorenz, who puts his arse on the line for us while we drink his wine!"

Claude howled and slapped his thigh, then raised his cup as well. "To Lorenz!" he cheered.

They drank and chatted by their fire, soldiers coming and going, giving reports or just spending a little time getting to know their commanders. There was enough wine for everyone, and a cheerful spirit spread through the camp like the warmth that spread through Ferdinand as he drank. For a while, the camp grew loud with merrymaking, but as the night wore on, it started to quiet again as drunk and exhausted soldiers went back to their tents to sleep.

"Ooh, it looks like Raimer is going to have a fun night," said Claude, leaning to peer back behind Ferdinand.

Ferdinand looked over his shoulder (which made his head swim— he was a little drunk), but the flap of his personal guard's tend swung closed just as he turned.

"Who?" he asked Claude.

"One of your cavalrymen, I think," said Claude in a conspiratorial whisper. "The tall one with the teal hair?"

Ferdinand's eyebrows rose. "I didn't think he liked men," he said. Whenever Raimer talked about someone he fancied, they had always been women.

"You'd be surprised how flexible some people's preferences are," Claude replied, waggling his eyebrows in a way that made him look like a teenager back at the Academy again. "Like a certain noble who I heard has gotten around a little…"

Ferdinand felt his whole face go hot. " _ Claude!" _ he shouted, entirely too loud.

Claude leaned back in his seat, laughing. "Come on, Ferdie, don't pull that scandalized act with me! You know people can't help but talk. You're quite the catch, apparently!"

"Oh?" Ferdinand asked, though he had covered part of his face with his hand in embarrassment.

"Very gentlemanly, or so I've heard," Claude said.

"So I would hope!" Ferdinand replied, with a little sigh of relief.

Then, partly because he was drunk, and partly because he had trouble keeping his mouth shut, he said, "Your lovers must be more discrete, or else you don't have any."

Claude snorted. "While leading a country at war? I don't have the time!"

That made Ferdinand's stomach feel strange. Still, he wanted to advocate for his friend's health. "You should try taking more time for yourself."

"Are you offering to bed me, Von Aegir?" Claude grinned ridiculously, as if that statement hadn't effectively stopped Ferdinand's heart.

"I—" he choked.

Claude's grin seemed to fall before getting replaced with a more gentle smile. "Hey, hey, don't panic!" he said, holding his hands up. "I was joking, I promise! Don't worry about it."

Ferdinand allowed himself to breathe. He was desperately relieved, but there was an undercurrent of shame in him, as well. 

"My apologies," he said. He wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for.

Claude waved his hand. "Really, don't worry about it."

The rest of the night was uneventful— the wine flowed along with the conversation until there was no more of either, and then they said their goodnights and went back to their tents. The next morning began their journey back to Derdriu, and if the pace of the march was a little slower to accomodate for the numerous hangovers, no one commented.

Ferdinand somehow was none the worse for wear, but he still felt the shame of the previous night like a sickness to his stomach. The morning had given him the insight he didn't have before.

He was relieved by Claude's insistence that he had been joking. He was relieved, because sleeping with Claude would have gone against Ferdinand's most important rule for his dalliances, and he wasn't sure that he would have been able to say no had Claude truly asked. Even knowing these things, a part of him was a little disappointed that Claude hadn't been serious. 

That last part was what Ferdinand felt ashamed for, and that shame followed him on the road and all the way back to Derdriu.

Two weeks later, Claude knocked on the door of Ferdinand's office. It was set up in a small room mostly used for storage. The Riegan household staff had fretted about finding a more suitable space, but it had a door and fit a desk and chair, so it worked for Ferdinand. He had been working over the inventory reports from the quietly amassed Alliance army and tallying what supplies they could send, but he stopped when Claude came in.

“Hey Ferdinand,” he said. He was wearing a sash patterned in black, green, and gold, with round tassels dangling from the end. He had been wearing it more often, since the war had started to come closer to the Alliance.

“I got word earlier today of another Empire militia harassing folks on the border of Ordelia,” Claude continued. “You want to come with? We’ve been a pretty good team so far.”

Ferdinand paused. He felt a fluttering warmth at Claude’s praise, but it didn’t unseat the shame that had made its home at the bottom of his stomach.

“Actually… I would like to sit this one out,” he said, carefully. “If it’s alright with you.”

Claude smiled again, waving a hand. “Not a problem. I’ll see if Hilda is up for meeting me there.”

Ferdinand let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thank you for understanding.”

Claude shrugged. “You get to choose your battles just like I get to choose mine, right?” he said.

A week later, when Claude was rushed back to Derdriu in critical condition, Ferdinand fervently wished he had chosen that battle.

Ferdinand jumped from his desk the moment he heard. He burst into Claude’s room. Claude had already been stripped of his armor and laid down on his bed and was being looked over by two healers. Both looked up, startled.

“What happened?” Ferdinand asked, trying not to shout.

“Some form of dark magic,” said Riegan’s house healer, who had one hand on Claude’s forehead and one on his chest, both glowing softly.

The other healer, who wore the gear of a field medic, stepped forward. “We’ve never seen it before. It is similar to Nosferatu, but it acts like a poison, sapping a person’s strength long after the casting.”

“As long as someone is around to replenish him occasionally, he should live, but we don’t know how to stop the spell, or if it will fade on its own,” said the house healer.

Ferdinand sat in a chair, clasping his hands and resting his chin on them. He took a careful breath in, then let it out, turning to the field medic. “Thank you for tending to him and bringing him here. Please stay the night and rest before you go.”

The medic shook their head. “With all due respect, I wish to return as soon as possible to tend to the wounded. There were many affected by that strange spell.”

Ferdinand nodded gravely. “Then, please take some food with you at least.”

The medic bowed politely. “You are too kind, Your Grace.”

Ferdinand didn’t think to correct them, to say that he hadn’t been a Duke for years.

He sat as the house healer finished her work on Claude, and was still sitting when she left. Claude was still, eyes closed, and he breathed deeply, as if in sleep. Ferdinand wondered if the state was Claude’s body trying to reserve and replenish energy on its own. If it was the case, Claude wouldn’t wake up until after a reversal for the spell was found.

Ferdinand stayed there watching Claude for some time. He forgot to eat the food brought to him, and he didn’t notice the sun setting until it was almost dark.

He thought a number of things while he sat there, but most of all, he thought, I should have been there.

Marianne arrived two days later, along with a large collection of books, Lorenz hot on her heels.

“How could this have happened?!” Lorenz exclaimed, furious.

“We knew Edelgard has been working with people like Solon, and he was able to do magic we had never seen before,” said Marianne with her soft voice. “I’m surprised we didn’t see something like this out in the field sooner.”

Lorenz clicked his tongue irritably, but he did not thrust his concerned anger onto anyone. Instead, he took one of Marianne’s many books and started to look through it. Ferdinand was surprised. He and Lorenz were friends, exchanging correspondence and seeing each other occasionally over the years. Even so, until that moment, he hadn’t noticed how much Lorenz had matured over that time.

He wondered what else he was missing.

Lorenz researched with Marianne until Lysithea arrived from Ordelia, after which he moved on to helping Ferdinand with his duties. Ferdinand was grateful for the help, as well as the company. However, it was difficult to admit as much when Lorenz was working through his worry over Claude by fussing over Ferdinand like a mother hen.

“Ferdinand! You have terrible eye bags! Have you been staying up by Claude’s bedside again?” Lorenz chided.

Ferdinand chafed at that tone, even though Lorenz was right, and his response came out a bit more petulant than he intended. “What I do with my time is up to my discretion.”

“Be that as it may, you and I are currently the ones holding up the Alliance while Claude is recovering. It won’t do for you to faint from exhaustion!” Lorenz said.

Ferdinand crossed his arms and sighed. Again, Lorenz was right, and Ferdinand didn’t have anything to say to the contrary.

Lorenz’s expression softened. “We are all worried, Ferdinand. But I can assure you, you can trust the healers, and you can trust Marianne and Lysithea.”

It was a very kind gesture from Lorenz, and Ferdinand was touched. However, he didn’t say as much. Instead, he said, “I should have been there,”

Lorenz opened his mouth, undoubtedly to ask about the nonsequitur, but Ferdinand held a hand up.

“Before Claude went on this last mission, he came and asked me to come with him. I refused.” Ferdinand ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I have gone on campaign with him for the better part of this last year. I should have been with him this time!”

“Ferdinand…” Lorenz hesitated, then stepped forward, his hand coming to rest on Ferdinand’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

Ferdinand closed his eyes. “I know,” he said. “And yet…”

Lorenz gave a small laugh. “And yet.” His hand left Ferdinand’s shoulder. “I am afraid that counselling you about your guilt is a bit outside of my purview, but if I may ask… at least try to get some sleep? For Claude.”

Ferdinand smiled, despite everything. “I will try.”

Ferdinand did get more sleep in the weeks following his conversation with Lorenz. Even so, any free time he had, he spent at Claude’s side. He often took his tea to Claude’s room and read, just to be there, standing a kind of strange watch.

He was there when the house healer came and checked up on Claude, only to take her hand away from his forehead with a look of surprise.

“He wasn’t drained at all,” she said, turning her astonished face to Ferdinand. “The spell might have finally faded.”

Ferdinand sat up. “Go inform Marianne and Lysithea. I will stay here in case he wakes.”

It was quiet for a long time after that. Claude remained still, his breaths deep and even. His face seemed to have a more healthy color, but Ferdinand couldn’t tell if he was just seeing things.

Eventually, the house healer returned and checked Claude over again, confirming that he was indeed recovering. Marianne and Lysithea dropped by as well, examining Claude themselves and going over reports with Ferdinand to send to the healers tending to the other soldiers affected by the spell. However, Ferdinand was eventually left alone again, and Claude remained asleep.

Ferdinand tarried as long as he dared, but eventually, he could no longer. With a sigh, he stood from his chair and approached Claude one more time.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” he said softly, resting a hand on Claude’s arm. “I must go see Lorenz before I retire for the night. Rest well.”

That was when Claude’s eyes fluttered and slid open. “What about Lorenz?” asked a voice rough from lack of use.

Ferdinand’s heart leapt into his throat. 

“Claude!” he exclaimed, taking Claude’s hand in both of his.

“That’s me,” Claude replied with a sleepy smile.

Ferdinand quickly summoned the house healer, as well as Marianne and Lysithea. Word had spread by the morning, and by the end of the day, almost everyone in House Riegan had passed through Claude’s quarters to wish him well.

“It’s almost like you all missed me or something,” Claude commented sometime during the procession.

“We did,” Ferdinand couldn’t help but reply.

Claude took another few days to fully recover, which he did under the house healer’s watchful eye. Reports came in that others affected by the spell were beginning to wake, as well. Confirmation that the effects did eventually wear off was encouraging, but Marianne and Lysithea took their research back to their respective households, determined to find a swifter solution.

In the meantime, Claude resumed his place at the head of the Alliance. He seemed to spend even more time holed up in his office than before, a line of people passing in and out of his doors. After only just recovering, Ferdinand was concerned, but he found it difficult to bring up. Eventually, though, after some time practicing channeling his inner Lorenz, Ferdinand made his way to Claude’s office.

Claude looked up when Ferdinand entered after a cursory knock. “Hey, Ferdinand! I was just thinking about you,” he said with a grin.

Ferdinand paused, for a moment caught off-guard. “Ah, yes. I wanted to speak to you.”

“Well, go ahead,” Claude replied easily.

Ferdinand took in a breath, stood a little taller. “Well, I wanted to express my concern, is all. You have been working very hard very soon after your recovery, and I don’t believe anyone wants you to be bedridden again when we have only just gotten you back.”

Claude smiled again. “Aw, Ferdinand, I’m touched that you’ve been worried about me. But, actually, what I’ve been working on is what I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Ferdinand asked, feeling turned about in the conversation.

Claude leaned forward on his desk, grinning, and it was a look Ferdinand had seen many times before— one that told him that he was about to learn something marvelous.

“I’ve been sending letters to our friends,” said Claude. “Lorenz, Hilda, Marianne, Ignatz, Leonie… all of the Golden Deer. I’ve been asking all of them the same thing— to make good on their promise to meet me and Teach at Garreg Mach for the millennial celebration. You’re the only one I haven’t asked yet, because I wanted to do it in person.”

Ferdinand looked at Claude. “But… Garreg Mach is in ruins. And the Professor…”

“I know what we saw, Ferdinand,” said Claude. “But… Teach doesn’t go back on promises. I just know that they’ll be there. Will you go and meet them— meet everyone with me?”

Claude looked up at Ferdinand, and for once, Ferdinand could see everything written there. Claude was drawn, tired, but he also looked determined, and like he believed absolutely in what he said. And Claude’s belief was the kind that Ferdinand couldn’t help but believe in as well. Claude’s belief was something Ferdinand could follow to the ends of the earth.

Claude reached out his hand, and Ferdinand took it.

“Of course,” Ferdinand said. “Of course I’ll go with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got a twitter omg @3RatMoon1


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the reunion at Garreg Mach, the war reaches a new intensity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for more serious violence in this chapter. Several students central to the game die. And finally, there is drug use (hashish/marijuana) by Claude and Ferdinand.

They arrived at Garreg Mach together.

That would have been enough for Ferdinand, but then Claude came down from the Goddess Tower grinning ear to ear with their lost professor in tow, and suddenly things changed. Claude and Byleth went to route bandits preying on the ruins of Garreg Mach. Ferdinand hung back to spring a surprise attack from the rear, only to find Lorenz riding beside him. Then Ignatz and Raphael showed their faces, then Hilda and Marianne, then Leonie and Lysithea. Even Felix and Sylvain arrived for the reunion on the battlefield.

After the fighting ended, everyone went around, exchanging smiles and clasped hands. Lysithea found out how to get the furnace that heated the old dormitories running again, and everyone meandered in and out of each other’s rooms, asking about what had been taken and what remained. All of Ferdinand’s good polishing oil was gone, of course, but he found an old book of tactics under his bed. When he opened it, he was surprised to find pressed flowers inside, and he remembered suddenly that they had been a gift from Byleth for his birthday, back when they barely knew each other.

Ferdinand brought the book to Claude, still sorting through his things, and told him about it.

Claude smiled at the flowers. “They’ve always been good to all of us, haven’t they?” he said. “You should show that to them.”

“Did you find anything?” Ferdinand asked, looking at the stacks of paper Claude had been sorting through in a desk drawer.

Claude shrugged. “Some old letters, mostly.”

Ferdinand wanted to ask more, but he heard the distancing tone in Claude’s voice. He didn’t used to be able to tell when Claude was hiding things, but nearly five years working with him had taught him the ways that he diverted attention away from some things and towards others. It was an intricate verbal dance, and one Claude did so often and so well that Ferdinand wasn’t sure he knew he was doing it half the time. 

Knowing such things made Ferdinand feel both closer to Claude and father away. He tried to remind himself of what Claude said on the day he was dosed with truth poison. He did not press about the letters, even if it made his chest ache a little for the rest of the night.

Everything was different after the reunion at Garreg Mach. Seteth returned with the Knights of Seiros, and Claude decided to make the monastery the new headquarters for the resistance. It was almost like academy days again, Ferdinand thought, except that mornings were spent in the war room instead of the classroom, afternoons clearing rubble instead of pulling weeds. Byleth even asked for some of his expertise one Saturday, which made him feel a little turned around.

Byleth. Having them back seemed like a magical key unlocking their successes. Suddenly Von Edmund was more willing to work with Claude, convinced by Byleth’s presence that the Alliance was on a mission sent by the Goddess. Because of Byleth, Seteth approved the joining of the Knights of Seiros with Alliance forces. Claude was an excellent tactician, but Byleth was even better, and the two of them together seemed almost unstoppable.

Claude started to spend an increasing amount of time with Byleth, training and planning out future battles. Ferdinand was no longer retainer but captain, along with the other Golden Deer. The only time that Ferdinand saw Claude was when they all gathered at the war room together, and it was always Byleth who lingered by Claude’s side as everyone filed out after each meeting.

Ferdinand berated himself. Jealousy was such an obvious reaction, without nuance. It was unbecoming of a noble, and it would only get in the way of his work. But no matter how much he coached himself every day, he would see Claude and Byleth walking down the hall together, or hear Byleth’s voice followed by Claude’s laughter, and he would feel his stomach curdle.

One such day, Ferdinand got turned around on the upper floors of the monastery and found himself outside the war room. Claude was lingering in the doorway, and Ferdinand could hear Byleth’s voice coming from inside. Immediately he felt his mistake, but emotion had already overcome him, and his feet came down harder, clicking on the stone as he turned on his heel and started back the way he came.

“Oh hey, Ferdinand!” 

Claude’s voice startled Ferdinand into turning back around. Claude was leaning on the door frame with one arm, the other hand on his hip. He had on his warm, rakish smile, and it made Ferdinand’s heart beat yet faster.

“Did you need something?” Claude asked.

“Oh, no, I just took a wrong turn on the way to the library,” Ferdinand replied.

"I've been meaning to stop by there all day," Claude said, smiling still. "Mind if I walk with you?"

"I don't mind at all."

The walk itself turned out to be a disaster of silences. Ferdinand, who had been desperate for Claude's attention, once he had it, found that he didn't even know what to do with it. Instead, he panicked while Claude walked quietly beside him.

"You alright there, Ferdinand?" Claude finally said. "Normally you'd be halfway into a story about the orchards in Aegir by now."

Ferdinand blushed. He had never in his life doubted his conversational skills, but suddenly he was worrying about the distribution of setting in his storytelling. Distantly, he wondered if love made everyone self-conscious.

"Oh, I'm alright. I'm just a bit tired," he said. It was a terrible lie, he knew, but whether Claude believed him or not, he gave no sign of either.

"I think everyone is a bit tired these days," he said. "Get rest when you can. We're moving onto the offensive. Teach and I have a plan for taking the Bridge of Myrddin."

"Wherever you go, I will follow," Ferdinand said.

"Not just following, I hope!" Claude replied. "After all, you've been with me for most of this war. I'd like to have you with me at my side."

Ferdinand felt his heart soar, despite everything. "Then, I shall be at your side when we take the Bridge of Myrddin," he said, smiling.

Claude grinned back at him. "There's the Ferdie I know!"

Ferdinand's mood was buoyed by his conversation with Claude for a while, but as time wore on and preparations for the Bridge came to a fever pitch, it became erratic, sometimes dipping and other times flaring into bouts of unexplained irritation. Frustrated with himself, he started avoiding people, especially the other Golden Deer, fearful that he might snap at one of them in front of the soldiers. The last thing he needed was more reasons for his only allies to distrust him.

During that time, he often found himself at the stables. It was quiet there, and the stable-master knew he could clean stalls and brush down the horses well, and did not bother him as he worked.

One morning, as he was looking over a pretty roan mare, he heard murmuring coming from one of the other stalls. When he peeked out of his own stall and looked, he saw a blue head bowed over one of the other horses— Dorte, he was sure.

"Oh, good morning, Marianne!" he called. "I didn't expect you this early."

Marianne turned shyly towards Ferdinand. She was quiet as ever, but the fact that she didn’t jump at the sound of his voice spoke to the growth she had experienced over the years. Perhaps it was her friendship with Hilda. Ferdinand didn’t know for sure. He didn’t know her as well as he would like, though they were starting to meet more in the stables. Ferdinand found that he liked her quiet companionship.

Because of these things, and because Ferdinand couldn’t keep his mouth shut, Ferdinand continued speaking.

“I feel like I have been seeing more of you of late,” he said. “Perhaps it’s because I have been spending more time at the stables? It does seem like an ideal place to avoid people.”

Marianne looked up, and Ferdinand immediately realized his misstep. “I apologize, I was being presumptuous. I don’t know why you may come here, besides perhaps that you love horses.”

Marianne gave a small smile. “I do come here because I love horses, but I also come here to be away from people, like you said. I find everyone to be… overwhelming, after a while.”

Ferdinand leaned his elbows on the stall door. He hadn’t heard Marianne speak this much about herself before, at least not without his (in hindsight, a bit nosy) prompting.

Marianne gave him a shrewd look. “But you love people. Being alone makes you tired like being around people makes me tired. Why are you hiding?”

Ferdinand chewed on his lip. Hearing this from Marianne was not something he expected. However, somewhere in the back of his mind, he decided that it she was an appropriate person for the topic.

“I suppose…” he steepled his fingers. “Let’s say that I have a friend. I used to spend a significant amount of time with this friend. But, things have changed, and now this friend is spending most of their time with someone else. This is just circumstance, and there is no reason to feel any way about it…”

“But you feel some way about it anyway?” Marianne finished for him.

Her gaze was gentle and non-judgmental, but it was also knowing, and Ferdinand looked away.

“Yes,” Ferdinand admitted, still determined to see the conversation through. “And… I do not like the man these feelings have made of me. So, I try to avoid showing him.”

Marianne nodded. “I understand. It’s easier to be good around horses.”

Ferdinand chuckled. She was right, in a way.

“But…” Marianne started again, looking down at her hands. “Maybe… if you try to spend some time with the person your friend has been seeing more of, you might be able to feel differently. I think.”

Ferdinand was quiet. He wasn’t sure how he felt about talking to Byleth, especially with how he had been acting of late. Even so, it was a lead when before he’d had none. And, as Marianne looked up shyly at him, he found that he trusted her judgement.

“I… I will try that,” he said eventually. “Thank you, Marianne.”

Marianne smiled her small smile again. “You’re welcome, Ferdinand.”

It was because of that talk that, when Byleth found Ferdinand training the next day, Ferdinand talked to them. He talked about his anxieties, about Edelgard. And, Byleth listened. Ferdinand’s moods did not immediately stabilize, but after that, he felt a little better.

The last six months of the war were both the fastest and slowest that Ferdinand ever experienced. No longer simply defensive maneuvers, the battles were suddenly making more ground than they did in the past five years combined. Ferdinand was at Claude’s side when they took the Bridge of Myrddin, like he promised. Then they marched through Gronder field, then took Fort Merceus.

In that time, Ferdinand came to understand the true difference between a battle and a mere skirmish. The sheer amount of death was staggering. The Alliance would have struggled to keep their numbers without the support of the whole roundtable before, attempting such deadly fighting.

And then, there was the shock that came from encountering their old classmates face-to-face for the first time. At the Bridge, the Golden Deer avoided the old Black Eagles without any orders to, but Gronder Field brought out the worst in both the Empire and the Kingdom. Dimitri, who was miraculously alive after the coup, was changed, no longer the noble and soft-spoken prince that Ferdinand remembered. He sent whole battalions of soldiers to their deaths pursuing Edelgard, continued on his own even grievously injured. His death didn’t feel right. It was too tragic for the last of the House of Blaidydd.

Bernadetta fell, too, abandoned by Edelgard on the stronghold and cut down by Kingdom soldiers. Seeing it stole the breath from Ferdinand’s lungs. All he could think about was the shy young girl hiding behind her book in the Black Eagles classroom.

They managed to capture Caspar alive at Fort Merceus, only to watch from the overlook in horror as massive javelins of light descended upon the Fort and razed it to the ground. Caspar was found in pieces, and Ferdinand couldn’t find it in him to see the body, even to mourn. Byleth and Claude and all their supporters, including him, had been the intended targets of that devastating attack, and it made Ferdinand feel only impotent rage to think of the lives it destroyed instead.

Over the months, Ferdinand stopped dreaming except to have nightmares. He dreamt of Mad King Dimitri and the javelins of light. He dreamt of his classmates’ blank faces. He dreamt that he kneeled in blood to pray to Saint Cichol, once. He would wake in the middle of the night, sweating and tangled in his sheets, and he would roll to a dry spot and try to sleep, but the images in his head wouldn’t let him.

On one such night, only a week away from the march on Enbarr, Ferdinand couldn’t stand to stay in his room with his nightmares anymore. He pulled on his housecoat and lit a candle, and he walked through the halls of the monastery like a ghost, trying to chase away the shadows. He went in the direction of the cathedral, not necessarily to pray so much as for somewhere to go. He made it as far as the bridge, but he was stopped by the sight of a figure looking out to the ravine below.

The person looked up, their eyes glittering in the light of Ferdinand’s candle.

“Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand blinked. “Claude?”

Stepping closer, the vague shape of Claude solidified. He was still in his day-clothes, his half-cape fluttering in the soft summer breeze. Shadows clung underneath his eyes. Claude tried to smile, but it was a weak, exhausted kind of smile.

“The one and only,” he said, still able to summon some of his usual banter. “What are you doing out here at this time of night, and so under-dressed at that?”

Ferdinand looked down at his housecoat and slippers. “I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone else out here,” he said truthfully.

Claude nodded and looked back out towards the ravine.

Ferdinand came a little closer. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Claude nodded again. There was a long silence between them, both looking at the yawning darkness below, but then he said, quietly, “Me neither.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Claude’s smile had slipped away, leaving him looking almost hollowed out with exhaustion. Ferdinand wasn’t sure he looked much better. But, in Claude, beyond the tiredness, Ferdinand still saw life, a spark of determination keeping him going.

Claude looked away first. “You know, I’m of two minds, seeing you out here,” he said. “I’m sad and angry at whatever it is keeping you up at night. But… it also feels good to not be alone.”

Ferdinand stepped closer still, close enough for their shoulders to brush. “I think I understand. Being a leader can be lonely business. But, don’t forget that you have us by your side.”

Claude smiled, and his eyes glowed like amber in the candlelight. “You’re right. I have you, and Teach, and all the Golden Deer beside me.”

They turned and looked out at the ravine together. They did not talk of little things, or of the looming battle at Enbarr. They didn’t talk about anything at all. They just stood together, shoulder to shoulder. The silence didn’t feel oppressive. For once, it felt right to say nothing.

Ferdinand looked out into the darkness, and slowly, he saw the sky begin to lighten with the coming dawn.

Ferdinand knew that Enbarr would be the hardest battle of the war, but even that knowing did little to prepare him.

The beginning was the easiest part. Ferdinand was sent with the first wave, piercing through enemy lines and blazing a path for the following army. He did not hold back, his battle-madness narrowing his focus to just his enemies as they fell before his onslaught. He was ruthless, untouchable, he and his horse dancing together across the stage that was Enbarr.

But, it wasn’t just an opera, and the boulder that crashed through the main building of the Market Hall was very real. For the first time since the battle began, Ferdinand paused, looking. It was Lorenz who parried the blow meant for him, driving his own lance through an Empire knight.

“Focus, Ferdinand!” Lorenz cried.

Focus. Focus. The further they pressed into the city, the more buildings that Ferdinand recognized. It felt like he was in the grip of a nightmare, the familiar made unfamiliar by the mask of destruction. And, Ferdinand knew, each step brought him closer to the Imperial Palace, and to not only buildings, but faces that he would recognize.

Of course, fate would have it that the first face he saw would be Hubert’s.

He stood at the Palace gate, flanked on either side by dark mages. Ferdinand had barely a moment to look at him, as tall and handsome and dangerous as he was five years ago, before his horse carried him into the fray.

Ferdinand was lucky that he had Marianne’s attention on him. He dodged Hubert’s attacks deftly, but the hits he did take he took hard. It knocked the wind out of him, making every nerve feel like it was on fire, and he was almost certain he wouldn’t be able to take a second one. His chest burned as he gasped for air, even as he urged his horse forward.

Distantly, he noted the other dark mages falling to his allies, allowing him to focus on Hubert. Ferdinand danced around the mage, lunging and dodging, changing the angle and lunging again. Hubert’s blood streaked face was twisted in a grimace. They exchanged blows over and over, but neither of them fell. Ferdinand was starting to feel frustrated. He was keeping Marianne’s attention when she could be spending it elsewhere. Yet, he couldn’t seem to drive his lance home, even when he saw the opening.

What was wrong with him?

An arrow whizzed past Ferdinand’s ear and buried itself in Hubert’s chest. Hubert fell.

Before Ferdinand realized what he was doing, he was out of his saddle and running to Hubert’s side. The mage looked up at him as he kneeled, cradling his head in his hands.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert gasped hoarsely.

Ferdinand hardly heard what he was saying. “Hubert, Hubert, I’m so sorry, it’s alright now.”

He would have cursed himself for his babbling, except for the hint of a pained grin that Hubert gave before his face went slack.

Ferdinand realized then, that he was in the middle of a siege holding a dead enemy. He glanced upwards just in time to see Claude’s white wyvern wheel away, back to where Seteth and Cyril and the other riders were still fighting. A horn blast rang out, calling the Alliance army forward, towards the Palace. Quickly, Ferdinand pushed open the gate and remounted his horse, leading his battalion inside.

Everything after that was a blur. Claude and Byleth joined him at the front as they pushed forward to where Edelgard was waiting. He saw Dorothea and a group of mages try to attack the rear, but he didn’t know what became of her. Petra fell defending the door to the throne room. Ferdinand pressed forward, though his lungs burned and his lance was slick with blood.

In the end, he didn’t meet blades with Edelgard. He saw the monstrous form she had taken, and wondered at it, but then Byleth and Claude took off towards her, and Ferdinand let them go. He had thought himself Edelgard’s rival once, but she never seemed to even consider him. And, he realized later, he was at peace with that. He found that he could cut the way for his friends instead, and be part of their victory.

He was happy. He was proud. Still, he felt strangely empty.

Everything was quiet in the Imperial Palace, after.

Marianne looked over everyone before hurrying off to reconvene with the other healers. Ferdinand had found a relatively untouched settee by a window, through which he watched Enbarr burning. His battle-madness had cleared quickly, which he was thankful for, but it left him feeling strange, like he was on the precipice of something which he dare not look at directly.

Eventually, Claude came to see him. His Barbarossa armor was ragged and splattered with blood, but he looked none the worse for wear otherwise.

“Hey, Ferdinand,” he said, sitting down next to him. For once, he didn’t smile, and Ferdinand appreciated it, even though he felt like Claude had the most reason to, after such a victory.

They looked out over Enbarr together for a while.

“The fires are starting to be put out,” Ferdinand said.

Claude nodded. “That’s good.”

Another moment of silence stretched between them.

“How are you doing?” Claude asked.

Ferdinand shrugged. “I am relieved, I supposed. I’m not sure. I feel strange.”

Claude was watching him carefully, picking his next words. “I saw what happened with Hubert. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you need it.” A pause, then, “Fighting old friends is hard.”

“I—” Ferdinand stopped short.

He and Hubert never got along well. They argued incessantly about topics large and small, always looking for ways to undermine each other’s points. Yet, they kept seeking each other out. Ferdinand had come to rely on Hubert’s cutting critiques on his essays, and had been hurt when Hubert turned down his offer to study together after he transferred.

Ferdinand’s hand went to his mouth. “Oh Goddess,” he croaked. “He had. He had been my friend.”

The something opened its vast maw, and Ferdinand recognized what it was.

Grief.

The war was over, and Ferdinand, always moving forward, had finally looked back and saw the trail of the dead. Edelgard. Hubert. Petra. Caspar. Bernadetta. They were all his compatriots once, and he hadn’t looked at them twice before transferring to the Golden Deer, lured by the mystery and the idea of greener pastures. Would things have been different if he had stayed with the Black Eagles? Would his classmates have been convinced to join him in defending Garreg Mach? Would he have been able to convince Edelgard to stand down? Would they all still be alive?

It didn’t matter, of course. What happened happened. The dead were dead. All Ferdinand could do now was mourn everything that was lost— the possibility for change, the possibility for reconciliation, the possibility of digging a new friendship out of the ashes of the ones he had burned. He sobbed into his hand, curling in on himself. Death was so, so permanent, and it hurt so much.

Then, Ferdinand was aware of a solid warmth around him. He sat up a little, opening his eyes, and saw Claude’s shoulder, where he had leaned forward to wrap his arms around Ferdinand.

“It’s okay,” Claude said softly. “It’s okay.”

Ferdinand’s arms came up, returning the embrace, and he ducked his head into Claude’s shoulder as the tears started anew. Claude held him as he wept five years of loss, at last safe enough to mourn.

Outside, it began to rain, and slowly, the last of the fires in Enbarr went out.

There were three separate feasts that summer. “Any excuse for a feast,” Claude had said once, but Ferdinand found the trail of festivities to represent some of the strangeness of those months well.

First, there was the celebration of the end of the war. By then, Claude had already received Hubert’s posthumous letter passing on the information he had about Those Who Slither in the Dark, and there were plans in the works to find their stronghold and destroy it. 

Ferdinand was eager to move— this felt like the true last battle, a chance to vanquish the true enemy of Fodlan. After all, Those Who Slither were the ones who tried to trap Byleth in the void, the ones who Cornelia served when throwing that awful coup in Faerghus, the ones who Ferdinand’s own father served when he captured Lysithea and Edelgard and countless others to be experimented on. There was little hatred Ferdinand held in his heart, and much of it was held for the people who had done such horrific things. Still, their mission was a quiet one, so the Golden Deer celebrated in Derdriu as if the battle in Enbarr was their final battle, eating and drinking and carousing into the early morning.

Three weeks after that, they took Shambala.

That feast felt like the true celebration. There was Gloucester wine and Edmund beer and enough food to everyone’s tastes. Claude even dragged out a massive water pipe from Almyra. Ferdinand smoked from it out of curiosity, and found that it made him feel a bit like he was drunk, except instead of wanting to dance, he mostly wanted to sit on one of the couches and pet Claude’s hair. Claude seemed to be in a similar mood, because he allowed Ferdinand to touch him, smiling and tipping his head back like a particularly content house cat.

It struck Ferdinand just how beautiful he was. He had shining green eyes framed by dark lashes, a handsomely shaped face with a slightly aquiline nose, and his hair was thick and soft. Ferdinand hadn’t even realized that his attraction to Claude had fallen by the wayside in the past months, but now it was back in full force, overwhelming in its strength.

Goddess, he had been feeling this way for  _ years.  _ What was he supposed to do?

In that moment, Claude opened his eyes, gazing sleepily up at Ferdinand.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

Ferdinand almost confessed everything in that moment. Only his dedication to propriety stopped him. He didn’t want something that had plagued him for nearly five years to be disregarded as a moment of weakness or intoxication. If he wanted Claude to know, he wanted to be deliberate about it.

“I got distracted,” Ferdinand said eventually, and smiled, just because smiling was easy at that moment.

He looked up to where Leonie had pulled Ignatz into a dance. They held each other’s hands and danced in circles, like the distant cousin of a waltz. It was very fast, and Ignatz was clearly having trouble keeping up.

“That’s nothing like the court dances I’ve learned,” Ferdinand said. “I would ask to be taught, but I feel quite stuck here.”

Claude laughed. “Me too. Maybe we should go a little lighter on the hashish next time.”

Ferdinand nodded and resumed petting Claude’s hair, and Claude tipped his head back on the couch. Ferdinand sat there and watched his friends continue to dance, around and around. At one point, Ignatz lost his glasses, and Leonie laughed and picked them up from the ground for him. Lorenz tried to approach the pair and offer a more formal dance lesson, to which Leonie responded by goading him into trying her dance instead. Lorenz relented, placing his hands primly into Leonie’s, only to yelp in surprise as she spun away with him.

Eventually, Ferdinand’s gaze strayed again to Claude. Slowly, he started to put together a plan. He would ask Claude for a formal courtship. He would do it in the form of a letter, as is traditional in the Alliance. Perhaps he would include a short poem. He had the time to think it over, now that the war was over, but he would not tarry too long, or else lose his nerve. Perhaps he would start in the morning, after his ride.

Eventually, the party wound down, and everyone went back to their rooms. Ferdinand laid in bed and mulled over starting lines for his letter, and when sleep took him, it was deep and restful and without dreams.

The day that Ferdinand finished his letter was the day that word came of the army of Nemesis, risen from the dead as the last act of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Ferdinand felt a small ache of despair. Would the bloodshed ever end? He had killed his friends and his enemies, and now he had to fight the corrupted heroes of a thousand years past!

But, as Claude told everyone before the battle, they had each other. It was their strength together that had carried them through the war and the march on Shambala. It was their strength together that defeated the Ten Elites, and as Nemesis mocked Claude and Byleth for not fighting him alone, Claude proudly proclaimed it again and again. It didn’t matter who struck the final blow, because it was all of them together who had brought it there.

Then, finally, it was over. The whole of Garreg Mach celebrated with them, relieved and exhausted. A part of Ferdinand was waiting for something else to interrupt their festivities, but nothing did. He ate and drank, and asked Leonie to teach him the spinning dance from her village.

In an inner pocket of his jacket, he had a letter addressed to Claude.

At some point of the night, Ferdinand saw Claude leave the hall. Ferdinand carefully waited, watching the door. Then, when enough time had passed, he excused himself from his conversation with Lorenz and Sylvain and left.

He found Claude leaning against the railing of the bridge to the cathedral, and it struck Ferdinand how much it reminded him of the night he found him there, both of them unable to sleep. Ferdinand clasped his hands together, suddenly aware that they were shaking.

Claude looked up and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said. “Is the party getting too much for even Ferdinand von Aegir?”

Ferdinand came a little closer. “I just wanted to see if you wanted company.”

Claude shrugged. “Sure.”

Ferdinand went to Claude’s side, then, leaning against the railing with him.

There was silence as they looked out into the ravine. Ferdinand tried to remember how to breathe. It was the perfect moment— he just needed to gather his wits about himself.

But, it was Claude who spoke first. “I’m glad you came to see me, actually. I had something I wanted to tell you. Well, I’m going to tell everyone eventually, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

Ferdinand looked over to Claude. Claude looked back, but only for a moment. Ferdinand had never seen him chew his lip before.

“Yes?” Ferdinand asked, suddenly uncertain.

Claude took a breath in and let it out.

“I’m leaving the Alliance,” he said.

“Leaving?” Ferdinand asked dumbly.

“Byleth is going to be the new queen of United Fodlan, with Lorenz as the governor of Leicester. You’ll most likely be the governor of Adrestia, if the lords ratify you.” Claude grinned a little at the end, but it was a rueful grin.

Ferdinand put a hand over his stomach, where the letter rested in his pocket. “Why?” he asked.

“I have business back home,” Claude said. He glanced back at Ferdinand. “Come on, you had to have guessed. How did I know Nader? How did I have the Immortal Corps as my battalion?”

Ferdinand looked away. “I guessed, but I did not want to assume. I figured that you would tell me when you were ready,” he said quietly.

“Oh, Ferdie,” Claude sighed. “You’ve trusted me over all these years. Probably more than I deserve.”

A tear surprised Ferdinand by skipping down his cheek. He swallowed and tried to not let the emotion show in his voice.

“Will you write, at least?” he asked.

Claude looked at Ferdinand, a number of emotions crossing his face before it resolved into a look of determination. Ferdinand thought of when Claude wore the same expression when he swore to make himself worthy of Ferdinand’s fealty.

Claude took both of Ferdinand’s hands in his own. “I will write as often as I can. I’ll tell you all about the adventures that I do on, and you’ll tell me all about reclaiming Aegir and restoring Adrestia. I won’t just forget about you, Ferdinand. I swear it on the earth and the stars, and on all the gods of my homeland. I mean it.”

A second tear escaped Ferdinand’s eye. “Alright,” he rasped. “Alright.”

Claude stepped forwards, wrapping his arms around him. Ferdinand returned the embrace, trying desperately not to weep in Claude’s arms again, despite feeling like everything was falling apart. Claude murmured something into his shoulder that might have been “I’m sorry.”

Then, Claude stepped back again, his hands lingering on Ferdinand’s shoulders for a moment before dropping back to his sides. His eyes shone brightly in the light of the torches.

“I think I’m going to head back inside,” he said.

Ferdinand nodded mutely.

Their shoulders brushed for just a moment as Claude passed him, going back towards the hall. The door opened, then closed, and Ferdinand was alone on the bridge, looking down into the dark ravine below.

Ferdinand didn’t think he would be going back to the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell with me on twitter @3RatMoon1


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For two years following the war, Ferdinand and Claude exchange letters.
> 
> CW in this chapter for mental health issues including overwork, nightmares, anxiety, and PTSD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this chapter was a doozy! Even so, I'm extremely happy with it. Thanks to everyone on twitter who listened to my agonizing about how hard it is for me to write things lol
> 
> One chapter left, everyone!!!

Ferdinand was so busy after the war that he could almost forget that Claude was gone.

As Claude had predicted, Ferdinand was approved by the remaining Adrestian lords as the new Governor. There was grumbling, of course, but having an Adrestian leader seemed to mollify the nobility. They didn’t even seem particularly phased by the possibility of public elections, whispers already spreading of ways to spin them in their favour. After all, the common folk did not have the knowledge required to lead! (Ferdinand kept his burgeoning plans for statewide education to himself for the time being.)

Ferdinand found himself surprisingly prepared for his position after five years of watching Roundtable meetings to Claude’s left. The Adrestian lords bickered much like the Leicester lords, and Ferdinand watched them, noting behaviors and learning motivations. He was quiet for the first few meetings, but then slowly, he started to speak more, putting his knowledge to work in persuading everyone to necessary action.

Food was the most pressing issue, with the damage done to Gronder and Aegir. There was enough food for a while, especially with the decrease in population brought by the War, but winter would be dangerously slim, not to mention the years of meager harvests to come while the land recovered. Even with such circumstances made clear, though, it took Ferdinand two moons to convince the lords to take the grain offered by the former Kingdom and Alliance.

“They wish to pile more debts upon us,” said the dowager Countess Varley, the last of her House.

“They wish to invest in the future of United Fodlan,” Ferdinand countered. “Trade was rich before the War. I’m sure they want to return to those times as badly as we do.”

“They are laughing at us as we grovel for meager goods!” said Count Oche, normally kind but likely still stung by having to return Nuvelle land to the newly-reinstated Countess.

“And our people should starve for our pride?” asked Ferdinand.

He eventually succeeded, but it left him bone-tired. The evening that the trade agreement was signed, Ferdinand went to his office to check his schedule. If he didn’t have any pressing business the next morning, perhaps he could take it off and sleep in some before his daily ride. 

Squinting in the light of one candle, he saw in his book penned in bold letters  _ “OFFICIATE BERGLIEZ COLLAPSE/CONSOLIDATION”. _

That night, Ferdinand realized that he was always going to feel this exhausted.

It was not a happy realization.

As Ferdinand came to understand, though, idle moments were no longer the pleasant escape they once had been. His mind always filled the quiet, and once where there had been echoes of the latest opera he attended, or hymns from the Cathedral, there was the hushed roar of ten thousand approaching soldiers. He woke at least once every night from some half-remembered nightmare, hoping that he had not cried out in his sleep. In the end, his terrors encouraged him to keep busy. He took lunch in his office, and tea, and dinner. He filled gaps in his schedule with social events, staying out late at least once a week at some opera or soiree or grand reopening. He didn’t go to bed until the early morning hours, when he was so tired that he was practically asleep by the time he pulled up the covers, and he slept like the dead, without so many dreams.

It was nearly six months into this that Ferdinand received his first letter from Claude.

Ferdinand did not recognize the wax, but he could make out the mark of House Riegan. It surprised him— he would have thought the signet ring forfeit when House Riegan collapsed, but afterwards such a thing would only have value to historians, so it likely wasn't missed. Ferdinand felt a sudden fondness for Claude’s strategic pilfering.

Carefully, he broke the seal and opened the letter.

> _ 2 Blue Sea, 1186 _
> 
> _ Dear Ferdinand, _
> 
> _ I’m sorry it took me so long to write to you. I know I was looking for adventure when I left Fodlan, but I was expecting to have at least a little time to write! What will be will be, but I hope you will forgive me. I know I still technically am keeping my promise, but I was expecting to be a bit more prompt. So much for my old lackadaisical attitude, huh? _
> 
> _ Now’s not the time to reminisce about the old days, though. A little birdie told me you were named Governor of Adrestia, just like I thought you would be. Congratulations! I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’m sure you have some plans in the works already, and I want to hear all about them— once we get a more secure set up, anyway. More on that later. _
> 
> _ I promised I would tell you about some of my adventures here, so here’s something from when I first arrived at the capital… _

Ferdinand read through the entire letter before he realized he was smiling. Then, he read it through again. Near the end, one of his staff came in with a tea service.

“Oh, thank you, Rebecca!” he said as she cleared a spot on his desk to set the tray down.

Rebecca looked a little startled at first, but then smiled back brightly.

“You are very welcome, Governor,” she said.

Ferdinand did not find the time to write back until that night, and his candles had burned low by the time he finished. But, when he crawled into his bed at last, he was not thinking about the next day’s tasks. Instead, he thought about what wondrous things Claude could be doing in Almyra.

> _ 18 Blue Sea, 1186 _
> 
> _ Dear Claude, _
> 
> _ I am so very pleased to hear from you at last! I would say that I was worried, but my confidence in your ability to find your way out of trouble remains as strong as my confidence in your ability to find your way into it! I have also been terribly busy, so I will not begrudge you for taking your time. _
> 
> _ I delight as always in your storytelling, even if I suspect you are embellishing some details (the King himself lost money betting against you at the wyvern races? Claude, please!). It makes me happy that you seem to be enjoying yourself amidst the scheming. The latter I know you will not divulge even with a cipher, but I look forward to seeing its fruits. I am sure it will be something extraordinary. _
> 
> _ As for me, I have mostly been spending my time in meetings with the lords and consolidating accounts. It is all essential post-war but dreadfully dull, so I will not bore you with the details… _

Ferdinand proceeded to receive letters from Claude once a month for the next year. He also received correspondence from Byleth and Lorenz, such that between the three of them, Ferdinand found himself looking through his incoming mail each morning with anticipation. Once, he even caught himself looking for new letters when he already had one from each of them open on his desk waiting for replies. 

Suddenly, he became aware that he might be lonelier than he expected.

> _ 25 Red Wolf, 1186 _
> 
> _ My Dear Lorenz, _
> 
> _ I have always looked forward to your letters with relish. With all due respect, your concerns about boring me are entirely unfounded. Whatever happened to my dear friend, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, the man who spoke without hesitation? You need not fear judgement from me! _
> 
> _ In fact, I have a request for you, should you accept it. I would love nothing more than to see your face again. Whether I go to you in Gloucester or you visit me here in Enbarr does not matter to me. Simply tell me your will, and I shall bend to it. It has simply been too long since I have seen a friend… _

In the end, Lorenz was too busy to travel, so Ferdinand packed his schedule to the brim so that he could take a week to travel to Gloucester and stay for a few days. Lorenz startled when Ferdinand greeted him with an embrace, but his mouth still twitched up at the corners when they parted.

“You are lucky that my father saw it fit to let me greet you at the gates alone,” Lorenz said with an amused twinkle in his eye.

Ferdinand felt slightly embarrassed, but was still too happy to see his friend to regret his lapse in propriety.

Count and Countess Gloucester met with Ferdinand in their reception room after he arrived and made appearances at both breakfast and dinner each day, but most of his time was spent either alone or with Lorenz. They went riding together every day and always took tea with each other, even when Lorenz was stuck in his office.

“Ah, it seems Faerghus is declaring a provincial holiday in honor of the late King Dimitri,” Lorenz said, peering at a heavily embellished letter sealed with the mark of House Fraldarius.

A distant part of Ferdinand wondered if there should be new seals made for the Governors as the titles become divorced from the noble Houses currently carrying them.

“That makes sense. The people would want to mark the end of the royal House,” Ferdinand said.

When he imagined the seals, they looked a lot like the symbols of the houses at Garreg Mach.

“Consolidating the House Blaiddyd accounts has been a nightmare, I have heard,” Lorenz continued. “Those who do not want more for themselves want everything to go to Fraldarius.”

“They are trying to recreate the monarchy,” Ferdinand sighed. “Perhaps I should visit and offer some of what we have been doing in Adrestia as an example.”

Lorenz nodded. “The situations in Adrestia and Faerghus are more similar than Leicester. We have had an easier transition, with power already somewhat decentralized.”

“I will make sure to send a letter to Felix when I return to Enbarr,” Ferdinand said. He pulled a small book and pencil from an inner pocket of his jacket and jotted down a note.

“How much have you written down to do already?” Lorenz asked with a quirk of his brow. “You will have hardly any time to recover from your travels!”

Ferdinand glanced down at his book. Notes from his visit alone took up several pages. There were people to write, proposals for the lords, books to read…

“I like to keep myself busy,” he said simply, closing the book and tucking it back in his pocket.

The look Lorenz gave him was disproving, but there was something else there that made Ferdinand inexplicably uneasy.

“Well,” Lorenz said, breaking eye contact to take off his reading glasses and fold the letter. “I believe that is enough work talk for today. Would you like to take a walk with me in the garden?”

Ferdinand smiled. “I would love nothing more.”

The tone of the visit took a strange turn, after that. Ferdinand tried to not talk about work, but he found that he ran out of topics quickly. Without meaning to, his mind kept returning to Enbarr. His current proposal was to use the stone left from the remains of the Market Hall and Middelfrank Opera House to speed housing repairs before there was too much snow. There was still the investigation of Edelgard and Hubert’s personal effects as well, and the decontamination of the labs that had been built in the dungeons. Lorenz gave him that inscrutable look each time his mind wandered, and Ferdinand would quickly change the subject to something more pleasant, but sometimes he simply found the words drying up in his throat.

In the end, Ferdinand left Gloucester feeling happy and refreshed, but he did sometimes puzzle over the awkward nature of the last day and a half.

\- - - -

> _ 3 Ethereal, 1186 _
> 
> _ Dear Ferdinand, _
> 
> _ I have something for you this time! I know Almyran Pine isn’t so easy to get in Adrestia, and even in Leicester it’s not as fresh as this. Drinking it reminded me of all the time we spent bent over my desk in Derdriu. It’s funny to think that Byleth uses that desk, now. I look forward to a thorough review, my friendly connoisseur! _
> 
> _ This month has been spent going to— you guessed it— more feasts! There were a few holidays, including the King’s birthday, so there were many celebrations to be had. There were more wyvern races, too, but it’s traditional for the winner of the last race to sit out of the following one, just to see who else rises to the top. Sometimes, a champion will even sit out of two matches so that they can meet the other winner and compete with them. _
> 
> _ Anyway, there was no racing for me, so I basically spent all of my time eating and smoking and schmoozing with all of the Almyran nobles, and I got some pretty hot gossip that way… _

Ferdinand held the tea tin in his hands as he read Claude’s letter. He had gone to his office straight from the stables when one of his staff told him that he had a parcel waiting. When he finally opened the tin, the strong smell of pine washed over him, and he smiled. He distinctly remembered a rainy day in Derdriu, when he had suggested a cup of tea to ward away some of the damp chill as they worked. There had been something mundane on Claude’s desk that day, surprisingly free of news from the border. Claude was less tense, his smile more easy, and Ferdinand found himself thinking of a different world— one where he was not von Aegir, where there was no war, where days like that one stretched on and on to the horizon.

Ferdinand thought of it as he fed the hearth and hung the kettle up over the fire. Then, as he got a tea set from the cabinet and set it up at his desk, another memory tickled at the edge of his consciousness. He took another breath in. Something about the tea and his riding gear was reminding him of… the academy?

Suddenly, he remembered. It was sometime in the late spring, shortly before he transferred to the Golden Deer. Several students from all three houses gathered in the greenhouse, the only enclosed space they had access to afterhours that was large enough to fit all of them. Claude was there, and Lorenz, Leonie, Lysithea, Caspar, Sylvain, Felix, Ashe (he had the key to the greenhouse), Edelgard and Hubert… perhaps a few others. Someone managed to get wine, and the space filled with the sounds of chatter as bottles were passed around.

Ferdinand didn’t remember who thought of the game, or what all of the rules were. He just remembered Sylvain waving around a handkerchief and asking for volunteers. Ferdinand, a bit tipsy by then, watched as Sylvain clucked his tongue at the lack of offers, clapped one hand over his eyes while the other one reached out a pointed finger, and spun around in circles until he nearly fell over.

When he opened his eyes, he was smiling down his finger at Ferdinand.

“Looks like you’re our first player, von Aegir,” he said.

“You don’t have to—” Lorenz started from Ferdinand’s right, but stopped as Ferdinand stood with a smile.

“I believe I can tell apart anyone in this room by a kiss,” he said confidently.

That earned several “ooh”s among the students.

“Bold words,” said Sylvain, folding the handkerchief over a couple times before tying it around Ferdinand’s head.

Ferdinand listened, eyes closed, as everyone whispered and giggled amongst each other. There was a distinct “I am  _ not _ —” from Lorenz, followed by a “Well  _ now _ you’re not…” from Felix. Then, the murmuring quieted, and Ferdinand found himself holding his breath, waiting.

The kiss was soft, mouth opened just enough to not be entirely chaste without going too far. Ferdinand tasted wine, felt just the barest scrape of stubble. Women didn’t generally shave, and the thought of kissing a man thrilled him. He breathed in, smelling pine and horses.

Then, just as suddenly as the lips touched him, they retreated. Ferdinand put a hand to his chin.

“Well! It is certainly someone who can grow a beard, and someone who drank,” he started, musing aloud. “It certainly isn’t Hubert— this person smelled like they had gone outside today!”

There was a flutter of laughter amongst the students, and a scoff from Hubert where he sat next to Edelgard. Ferdinand had been surprised to see the both of them at the party and couldn’t help a jab in their direction. Satisfied, he turned his thoughts back to the kiss.

After a moment, he clapped his hands together.

“I have made my choice!” he declared.

Pulling off his blindfold, he glanced around at the gathered students before pointing a triumphant finger at Claude.

“My kiss was from one Claude von Riegan!”

There was a pause, Claude’s face unreadable, but then he smiled and bowed. Students cheered, impressed.

“Good job, von Aegir!” Claude said. “What gave me away?”

Ferdinand grinned. “You had stable duty with Marianne today. I could still smell it on your uniform.”

Claude threw back his head and laughed. “I should have known!” he cried. “Let it never be said that Ferdinand von Aegir does not know his horses!”

Ferdinand sat back in his chair. He hadn’t thought of that memory in some time. When he considered it, it was possible that night was the night that he decided to join the Golden Deer. The kiss itself had been thrilling, but not as much as impressing Claude. The praise had made Ferdinand insufferable for days afterward, and when word got around that he was transferring houses, there was a brief rumor that he was doing it to be closer to Claude. In some ways, they weren’t wrong.

Ferdinand was startled from his thoughts by the whistle of the kettle. Still, they lingered as he scooped leaves into the teapot and poured water over them. The gift and the memories it brought warmed him, but it felt like such a temporary warmth.

He missed Claude. He missed the days when things between them seemed more possible. Now, Claude was gone and House Riegan was dead. Ferdinand’s courting letter was gathering dust somewhere at the bottom of one of his drawers.

It shouldn’t hurt this much still, he thought.

He watched the water in the teapot darken.

It was the anniversary of the Battle of Garreg Mach and the start of the War when the codebreakers solved the cipher in one of Edelgard’s journals. 

Ferdinand held the sheaf of paper containing what had been translated so far. He had stopped hearing the voice of the Goddess long before he learned the fates of Her and the Saints, but the timing felt like a sign. Despite the correspondences and reports still sitting on his desk, he flipped over the cover page and began to read.

What was laid out before Ferdinand was not just Edelgard’s journal, but her autobiography. In the handwriting of Ferdinand’s codebreakers, Ferdinand read from her parents’ meeting all the way through to her impending enrollment at the Officer’s Academy. Edelgard wrote with a grandiose detachment, but occasionally, Ferdinand saw something of the personal leak into her writing. He had known for some time what had happened to her and her siblings, but it was different reading the way Edelgard’s words went vulnerably vague as she recalled the night that her youngest sister died in her arms.

The meandering of Edelgard’s history finally solidified into purpose near the end of the section Ferdinand had been given. Edelgard’s tone suddenly shifted tenses.

> _ Soon, I will be departing for the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach. For years, I have built connections and my own strength. Now, with such proximity to the Church of Seiros and use their resources, I will finally be able to do what I have been preparing for ever since I emerged from that dungeon. _
> 
> _ I will see the Church of Seiros fall and all of Fodlan united under the banner of the Empire once again. _

At the end, she detailed a manifesto for her rule as the last Emperor of Fodlan. She called herself the last, because after the Church was defeated and Fodlan was united, she planned to collapse every noble house and replace them with elected officials. At the end of her brief life, she would relinquish her remaining power to the Ministers, and without any heirs, her death would end House Hresvelg and the last of the nobility.

It was a beautiful declaration. It was, in fact, very close to the plan Claude and Byleth had forged together. For a moment, Ferdinand saw the kind of Emperor Edelgard could have been, and he saw someone he could have proudly stood beside.

Ferdinand put his head down on his desk and wept.

Three months later, Ferdinand went to Derdriu.

It was strange to walk around the old Riegan estate. Much of it was the same, the gold and black effects simply exchanged for green and gold. As Claude had said, Byleth sat at the same desk he had used as Sovereign Duke. Later, Ferdinand sat at the old roundtable with Lorenz, Felix, and a few lords from each province, with Byleth at the head. There, they discussed everything from trade to elections to public holidays. Then, everyone ate and danced in the hall where the Golden Deer had celebrated the end of the War. Ferdinand found it equal parts strange and comforting.

Ferdinand danced with Lorenz for a while. They bantered and shared a few chuckles as they switched leads, but then the strangeness from Ferdinand’s visit to Gloucester returned.

“You have been oddly reserved, my friend,” Ferdinand found himself saying. “Is something the matter? Has one of your parents taken ill?”

Lorenz seemed genuinely surprised by that question. “What? No, they are both quite well.”

Ferdinand held up his hand so Lorenz could do a twirl. “Then what is troubling you so?”

Lorenz pretended that he was looking away as part of the dance, but Ferdinand saw him chew his lip.

“This isn’t the place for such a discussion,” he finally said.

Ferdinand’s face softened. “I will let it be, then. But please, at the latest opportunity, come to me.”

“I will,” said Lorenz, though he did not look much relieved.

The latest opportunity turned out to be a ride the next afternoon. They had to go through the city and inland to find enough space to run the horses, but it was a pleasant day trip. Living his childhood and adolescence between Enbarr and Aegir, Ferdinand found that returning to the country always helped him when the bustle of the city was beginning to wear on him.

He hadn’t been to Aegir for more than a couple days since he was named Governor.

When he said as much to Lorenz, his lips thinned.

“I… have been meaning to pick up on our discussion from the other evening,” he said.

There was an overly long pause. Ferdinand looked over to his friend and saw him looking pensively over the horizon.

“Have you spoken to your house healer of late?” Lorenz finally asked.

Ferdinand frowned. “I had my annual check-up with her in Great Tree Moon,” he said. “Why?”

“Did you talk to her about why you haven’t been sleeping?”

Ferdinand paused a moment. He wasn’t sure where the conversation was going. “Well, yes, I told her that I have trouble sleeping sometimes. She gave me a potion for it, but I found that it made me terribly drowsy in the morning.”

Lorenz looked over at Ferdinand. “When did you take it?”

“When I went to sleep, like I was instructed!”

Lorenz made a frustrated sound. “Yes, but when do you go to sleep?”

Ferdinand paused again, feeling suddenly shy. “Normally? Around… three, I suppose.”

Lorenz startled so hard that he spooked his horse and had to take a moment to calm her.

“ _ Three, _ Ferdinand? When do you get up?” Lorenz hissed.

Ferdinand cringed. “Six.”

“ _ Ferdinand! _ That’s only three hours a night! No wonder you look so awful!”

Ferdinand watched as Lorenz tried to compose himself, self-consciously tucking a stray hair behind his ear. Did he really look terrible?

“I wanted this to be a civil conversation,” Lorenz lamented. “I was not even sure how to bring it up. We are not young men at war anymore. We are two of the three Governors of Fodlan. I should be bent over backwards trying to put this subtly.”

Lorenz gave a great sigh. “Oh, blast it. We are alone in a field! Ferdinand, you are my  _ friend, _ and I am  _ worried _ about you.”

Ferdinand risked another look at Lorenz, then, and he saw something like what he saw when he first arrived in Derdriu with his people looking for refuge. Lorenz was someone who would fight tirelessly for another. His compassion, much like Ferdinand’s was expressed through action. He did not like to not be able to do anything. 

Lorenz no longer hen-pecked his companions to chase away any feelings of helplessness, but by the look he gave Ferdinand, it did not mean that he felt it any less keenly.

Ferdinand took a breath, and told Lorenz everything.

When Ferdinand returned to Enbarr, he called on his house healer, Harriet. Harriet had been part of the retinue that Ferdinand brought to House Riegan to ask for refuge for his people, and she found work as a medic during the war. Ferdinand was happy that she could continue to work with him now that the war was over.

As Ferdinand was finally honest with her, about the nightmares and phantom armies and the fear of being left alone with his own thoughts, Harriet simply listened, her hands folded together in her lap. Ferdinand found that her calm demeanor reminded him of Mercedes. Last he had heard of her, she was working at the healing house in Fhirdiad.

“I feel like I have been hiding so much from you,” he said as he finished laying everything out. He ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“With all due respect, Governor, I do not believe you have been hiding things as well as you think,” Harriet said.

Ferdinand balked. “You,” he started. “And you did not say anything?”

Harriet smiled. “I saw how you acted when Lorenz fussed over you during the war. I believed that you would dismiss anything I suggested to you. Instead, I decided to wait for you to come to me yourself.”

Ferdinand already had an amount of respect for Harriet, but that day, he gained a great deal more.

Ferdinand left his appointment with a tin of valerian and chamomile tea and a recommendation that he spend the rest of the summer in Aegir. Ferdinand was concerned about all the work he still had to do, but as he made preparations, he found that his aides rose to the occasion, even more than he expected. He wondered if he should try to entrust more to them even when he was in Enbarr.

There was some last-minute fretting, but then he was on the road to Aegir. He was glad that he took the suggestion that he ride in a carriage instead of on his own horse, as he had hardly slept the night before. He ended up dozing most of the trip, the sway of the carriage lulling him to sleep.

When he was not asleep, he gazed out at the countryside. It was too much to hope for a full recovery in only two years; many of the fields were left fallow, covered in scraggly brown grasses. People milled about in the villages, but not nearly as many as before. Still, here and there, Ferdinand saw children playing and spots of green where things were starting to grow.

Ferdinand came back to an Aegir estate in a state of frenzy. Newly-hired staff were scouring the house for what had been left after the place had been repossessed by the Empire. Here and there were harried-looking people airing out rugs, taking sheets off furniture, and moving things between rooms.

“Please pardon the mess, Governor,” said the new head of staff. “Shall we have your luggage brought to the master suite?”

“Yes, please,” Ferdinand responded.

The master suite looked much different than it had before. Ferdinand recognized furniture from guest rooms and his own room. Most of the original pieces must have been repossessed, he thought. Ferdinand found the change almost a relief, unsure how he would have felt sleeping in his father’s room.

The bustle calmed down after a couple days. The remaining effects coalesced into the parlour, one guest room, and the master suite with its adjoined office and reception room. More furniture was commissioned in Aegirtown, which both pleased and overwhelmed the carpenters, who were already busy with the rebuilding and repairs of several homes. Ferdinand made sure that the housing was prioritized, reassuring the staff that he would survive with what was on hand.

After that, Ferdinand started to settle into a routine. He still went on his rides in the morning , as Harriet encouraged him to, but he took breakfast in his reception room instead of the office. He worked until two, then (with difficulty) left and spent the rest of the day in leisure. He caught up on quite a bit of reading, finding that it was relaxing while keeping his mind occupied. The tea helped as well. Slowly, it became easier to go to bed earlier, without fearing night terrors as much. After two moons, Ferdinand looked in the mirror and was surprised to see that the shadows under his eyes had receded, and his cheekbones were less stark on his face.

During Verdant Rain Moon, Lorenz was able to tear himself away from his own work and visit. Together, he and Ferdinand spent time riding along the beaches and walking through the orchards.

“I am so pleased to see you doing better,” Lorenz said, emboldened again by their isolation from prying ears. “I am honestly surprised. You never took my advice during the war.”

Ferdinand smiled. “I believe the difference was in how you framed said advice then compared to now.”

Lorenz blushed. “I suppose I was a bit… forceful, before.”

Ferdinand laughed.

Midway through Horsebow Moon, just before the Autumn Equinox, Ferdinand returned to Enbarr. He felt some trepidation upon his return, fearing that he would fall back into bad habits and wondering if some of the lords would think him weak for taking time off.

Those fears were interrupted by one of his aides approaching him with a very important-looking letter.

“I know you have only just returned, Governor, but this is from the Sovereign,” they said.

Ferdinand opened it.

> _ 10 Horsebow, 1187 _
> 
> _ His Governorship Ferdinand von Aegir of Adrestia, _
> 
> _ We wish to formally invite you to Derdriu to welcome the arrival of the King of Almyra, Khalid of the Seven Stars, and his delegation for the long-awaited negotiation and hopeful establishment of a treaty between our two nations, on the First of Wyvern Moon. _
> 
> _ Please arrive between the Twenty-ninth and Thirtieth of Horsebow Moon for preparations. Bring one week’s business attire and both formal and semi-formal dress for the evenings. Accommodations will be managed by House Eisner. _
> 
> _ We look forward to your attendance. _
> 
> _ Cordially, _
> 
> _ Their Majesty the Sovereign of United Fodlan _
> 
> _ Byleth Eisner _

When Ferdinand opened the letter completely to read to the end, a smaller piece of paper fell out. Ferdinand picked it up and saw that it was written in Byleth’s own hand, rather than the flowery script of their official scribe.

> _ Ferdinand, _
> 
> _ I’m so pleased to hear you are doing well, and I hope you only continue to improve. _
> 
> _ I’ve heard that Claude will be in attendance with the King when he comes to Fodlan. Just thought you might want to know. _
> 
> _ Save some time in your visit to come catch up with me. _
> 
> _ -Byleth _

The next day, confirmation came in the form of a letter from Claude himself.

> _ 5 Horsebow, 1187 _
> 
> _ Dear Ferdinand, _
> 
> _ I have some exciting news! You might have already heard from Byleth, but the new King is finally coming to Derdriu to talk about a treaty between Fodlan and Almyra. I’ll be coming along, too! I’ll be with the first part of the delegation to arrive, so keep an eye out for me, alright? I know you’ll be busy being Governor and all, but I hope you’ll spare some time for me. _
> 
> _ Now to the matter of your last letter. I’m so glad you have been taking your time in Aegir well. You have been working really hard lately, and you deserve to have some time off! To hells with the lords if they think you’re being lazy! They haven’t done half of what you have these past couple years! I hope you take an extra hour to read today, just to spite them. _
> 
> _ That reminds me, I should bring you some books from Almyra for you to read. You’ll need to have them translated, of course, but the original artwork is really something to behold. There’s a collection of tales I think you’ll really like… _

That gave Ferdinand twenty days for the questions that had built up over the years to whip up into a veritable storm in his head. The night before the delegation’s arrival, Ferdinand found himself unable to sleep at all, despite the long journey and the meeting with Byleth and all of the Fodlan delegation giving a summary of Almyran culture and courtesies. 

After some hours of tossing and turning, Ferdinand gave up and got out of bed. It made him feel strangely nostalgic to sneak down to the kitchen for heels of bread to calm his hunger. Instead of going back to his room, he went to the balcony at the end of the guest wing, and was surprised to find someone already there.

“Didn’t think anyone else was up at this hour,” said Felix.

Ferdinand closed the door behind him. “Nor did I. Unable to sleep?”

Felix shook his head. “I don’t sleep well in any bed but mine.”

Ferdinand nodded and leaned over the railing, looking at the stars over the water.

“I should thank you for your help in Fhirdiad,” Felix said after a while. “I didn’t know how to get the lords off of my back without probably causing some kind of incident. I never wanted to be a duke, much less a king. I’m only Governor now because no one else wanted to do the work.”

Ferdinand raised a brow. “Not even Sylvain?”

Felix waved a hand. “He’s busy trying to make reparations with Sreng.”

“Ah, that is fair,” Ferdinand said.

Another silence stretched between them. Ferdinand did not know Felix as well as he would like, but they had shared enough silences together for Ferdinand to know a comfortable silence from an uncomfortable one.

The stars over the ocean were beautiful, Ferdinand thought. In Aegir, nights were too often overcast for him to appreciate them.

After some time, Felix sighed.

“Ferdinand,” he said.

“Hm?” asked Ferdinand.

Felix turned to him, his expression as taciturn as ever, but with something else to it as well.

“Do you… ever regret the side you chose?” Felix asked. “Even if you’d make the same choice again.”

Ferdinand found a smile tugging at his mouth. “I do, sometimes.”

He told Felix about Edelgard’s manifesto.

“I often wonder, if I had stayed, if I could have found some way to allow her to fulfill those dreams without it coming to war. I sincerely doubt it, though.”

Ferdinand looked out over the water. “I think that the Edelgard in that book and the Edelgard we saw in the throne room of the Imperial Palace are the same person is one of the greatest tragedies of our lifetime.”

Felix was looking away, but he said, “I know exactly what you mean.”

It was sometime in the afternoon when the scouts spotted the Almyran ships, and everyone was called down to gather in welcome. For a while yet, though, there was only a lot of standing around awkwardly and squinting at the horizon. Many times, murmurs went around as those with better eyes thought they could see shapes in the distance.

Then, eventually, the shapes became more solid. Murmurs turned into excited chatter. Someone spotted shapes in the air, and the chatter grew louder. There were wyverns flying ahead! People speculated on who would be among the riders. Would the King himself come as part of the first arrivals?

Ferdinand knew Claude had to be one of them, and he found himself peering as eagerly at the shadows as the rest of the crowd, shading his eyes with one hand. Sure enough, he could eventually see the shining white of Claude’s wyvern standing out amongst the brown and green.

The crowd’s noise grew to a fever pitch, then all at once went quiet as the wyverns set to land. There were fifteen of them, and people had to scurry out of the way to give them room. Claude was at the center, wearing riding leathers embroidered with beautiful geometric designs, and the same sash he wore through the war was tied at his waist. His beard was thicker but still impeccably well-groomed, and upon his head was a jeweled circlet.

He looked like royalty.

While Claude seemed to take his time, another younger man rushed to dismount his wyvern, running ahead of the others before stopping abruptly between both crowds.

In the tongue of Fodlan, he cried, “Announcing the arrival of Khalid of the Seven Stars, King of Almyra!”

Claude stepped forward and bowed.

“I am pleased to finally be here in Fodlan to discuss a future of peace between our peoples,” he said, with the same grin he always wore when he had succeeded at something.

Ferdinand’s mouth fell open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yell with me on Twitter @3RatMoon1


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Claude returned to Fodlan as the King of Almyra, Ferdinand has a week to answer questions and tie up loose ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW!! I can't believe we've made it this far! Look Me in the Eye is now my longest work and my first completed multi-chapter work!
> 
> Thanks to all of the commenters who have encouraged me along the way, and to everyone in my little corner of the twitterverse!

The rest of the first day went by in a blur. There was the first welcoming ceremony, and then the official welcoming once the rest of the Almyran delegation arrived on their ships. Both Claude and Byleth made speeches, and then tea and coffee was served in the grand hall while several performances crossed the floor. There were Almyran aerialists and fire breathers, and Fodlanic operatic excerpts and choral hymns. Felix even put on his old dancer’s uniform and did a sword dance that seemed to impress the Almyrans a great deal.

Ferdinand had been acquainting himself with members of the Alymran delegation during that time, but he couldn’t help stealing glances at Claude where he was doing the same with the Fodlaners.

Suddenly, a strong arm encircled him.

“Looks different when he’s all dressed up, doesn’t he?”

Ferdinand turned in his seat and smiled. “Nader!”

Ferdinand stood so the both of them could clasp arms, and Nader pulled him into an embrace.

“I’m so glad to get to greet you properly!” Nader said with a grin. He spoke with his usual accent, rather than hiding it as he did when keeping up his ruse as Claude’s aide during the war. “You Fodlaners are so formal, sometimes.”

Ferdinand laughed. “That is not a claim I can refute!”

“If anyone could convince me, it would be you or the King!” said Nader. “Come here, there are some people I want to introduce to you…”

Ferdinand spent the rest of his time speaking to a few Almyran smiths and armourers about their craft. Ferdinand was flattered that Nader remembered his interest in armour, and did not mind that the conversation was lacking in policy. Policy could wait for the morning. The evening was an opportunity for Almyra and Fodlan to connect on a more personal level.

Finally, dinner came, and Ferdinand had to return to his assigned seat near the head with Byleth and the other Governors. That seat also put him the closest he had been to Claude since he first arrived. When just earlier Ferdinand had been at ease, he found his hands starting to sweat in his gloves as he approached the end of the table.

To his surprise, Claude broke out into a smile and stood upon seeing him.

“Ferdinand!” he said brightly. “It’s so good to see you again, my friend!”

Claude enveloped him effortlessly in his embrace, and Ferdinand only belatedly realized he should do the same. He felt as if he was in a dream. Claude smelled of sandalwood and pine.

Ferdinand was smiling. “And I you,” he said.

“That reminds me,” said Lorenz, already seated to Byleth’s left. “They used a different name when they announced your arrival. What was it…”

“Khalid,” Claude said. “If you’re asking what to call me, that would be it. Claude is just what I used to smooth things over when I went to Fodlan as the old Duke Riegan’s heir. I won’t be mad if you call me that, but it’s been long enough that I might not realize you’re talking to me!”

“In that case,” said Byleth, “let me be the first to say: Welcome back, Khalid.”

Ferdinand grinned and raised his glass. “Welcome back!” he cheered.

The dinner was some of the most lavish Ferdinand had in years. While Adrestia was busy finding ways to spin more humble meals as luxurious, Leicester was flourishing. There was roast pheasant, beer-battered fish from Edmund, hearty creamed vegetable pies from Gloucester, and a whole plethora of sweets afterwards, including sorbets shaped like the fruits they were flavoured with. Ferdinand found himself not talking as much as he normally did, tucking in with relish.

While everyone ate, Khalid launched into a retelling of his time away, now with more clarity with his secret revealed.

“I can’t believe I said you were embellishing the truth when the King really did bet against you at the races!” Ferdinand cried.

“What kind of father bets against his own son?” said Felix.

“The kind that knows the son would enjoy winning just to spite him,” Khalid replied with a twinkle in his eye.

Felix made a face like he had a point.

Lorenz leaned forward. “Correct me if I am wrong, but these past two years of carousing and participating in races and tournaments— it was all to impress your father enough for him to abdicate the throne to you?”

“You’re mostly correct,” said Khalid. “It wasn’t just my dad I had to impress, though. I had to ward off other family members who could try to make a claim, and I had to have the support of the people, too. Who else would fight for me if there was a dispute over the throne?”

“And you had your work cut out for you, convincing them to consider a treaty with Fodlan,” Ferdinand added.

Khalid nodded. “But it all paid off. Now, it’s just up to you all to make a good impression!”

Felix crossed his arms. “I did the dance and I’ve signed up for the sword tournament. What more do you want?”

“From you? Nothing,” Khalid said with a grin.

“Perhaps I should apply to something,” Ferdinand pondered.

“There is jousting and a lance tournament,” Byleth supplied helpfully.

“I will admit, I have boasted about your abilities in the past,” Khalid said. “I’d love to see you show off a bit.”

Ferdinand felt a blush creep up his neck. “Then, I shall apply. Jousting and lance.”

Khalid smiled brightly. “I look forward to seeing it.”

Ferdinand wasn’t able to speak to Khalid alone that night. The merrymaking was still so fresh that everyone was busy until the early morning, when they dragged themselves to their rooms to collapse for a few hours. The next morning was the beginning of negotiations. It was a bit messy, with people talking over each other and translators struggling to keep up. By the end of the day, however, there was the skeleton of a treaty, which was better than Ferdinand could have expected. Now, they had the rest of the week to bicker over the details.

Again, Ferdinand ate in the evening with Khalid and Byleth, Felix, and Lorenz. This time, some Almyran dishes were mixed in with the Fodlanic, including spiced meats, greens, pickles, and a kind of chickpea sauce, all served with flatbread. There was more coffee as well, rich and sweet and much better than when Ferdinand had tried the drink before. It was stronger than tea as well, and Ferdinand found it easier to stay up with the festivities.

After dinner was dancing, starting with the more formal Fodlanic style. Several Almyrans joined in, with companions from Fodlan teaching them the steps to varying degrees of success. Ferdinand spent some time with one of the armourers, Kudret, who gave a valiant effort but eventually gave up.

“I will be seeing you in the circle, later!” he declared, though Ferdinand wasn’t completely sure what he meant.

That was when Khalid appeared, sliding up beside Ferdinand with a smile.

“Spare a song for an old friend?” he asked coyly.

Ferdinand grinned and took his hand. “Always.”

Khalid led him with the kind of effortless grace that Ferdinand expected from him. Ferdinand fell in step easily, spinning around and around across the floor with the music.

“You’re a difficult man to get on his own, von Aegir,” Khalid said after a little while.

Ferdinand quirked a brow. “More difficult than the King of a visiting nation?”

Khalid gave a relaxed shrug. “Fair enough.”

There was a pause.

“You know,” Ferdinand said. “Of all the things I imagined you could be up to, I never thought of this.” He smiled. “Once again, you have exceeded my expectations in the most marvelous way.”

Khalid smiled back, warm and genuine. “You always have thought the best of me,” he said. His smile faded. “I would have thought you would be mad at me, at least a little bit. For leaving. For not telling you everything.”

“I was, for a little while,” Ferdinand said. “I was… sad, mostly. But then, there turned out to be a few other things that were more pressing on my mind.”

Khalid nodded. “Has it been going alright? You know… everything.”

Ferdinand made a noncommittal sound. “I have been told that these things take time. I am sleeping better than I used to, at least.”

“I’m glad,” Khalid said, smiling that smile again. “You know, getting your letters were some of my favorite parts of the last couple years. I could be second-guessing everything from what I said to someone last night to everything that I was trying to do in Almyra in the first place, and then I’d read about you slowly putting yourself and your country back together again, and I… I would feel like I could believe in myself again.”

Ferdinand didn’t know what to say. He looked into the depth of emotions in Khalid’s eyes and dared not try to interpret them. His throat clicked dryly when he swallowed.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

Khalid breathed in, then sighed. “I missed you, too.”

The air between them suddenly felt thick with something Ferdinand couldn’t fathom. This close, he could feel the heat coming off of Khalid’s body, could smell sweat mingling with his cologne.

The music slowed as the song came to an end. Khalid leaned forward.

“Come find me in the alcove with the statue of the old Duke tonight,” he said, just low enough for only Ferdinand to hear.

Then, they parted. Ferdinand had barely a moment before someone else asked for a dance from him. He felt a little badly for that person, a minor noble from Leicester who he had met before at some point. He hardly listened to a thing they said as he played that last moment with Khalid over in his mind again and again.

Eventually, Almyran players replaced the Fodlanic ones. The music became more raucous, huge circles of dancers forming in the hall. Ferdinand finally understood what the armourer had meant. Dancing in the circle itself was easy to pick up, and several Fodlaners began to join the slowly rotating rings of people.

When the song changed, a young man jumped into the middle of the circle Ferdinand was in and began dancing on his own. He was clearly very skilled, performing complicated footwork and dizzying spins, all perfectly in time with the beats of the music. There were several whoops from the crowd. Then, the young man ducked back into the ring, and someone else took his place in the centre. The first few were excellent performers, but as the crowd warmed up, many more of varying skill levels took turns showing off what they knew.

At one point, a song began at a slow pace. Ferdinand saw Kudret dash out into the middle, and once they met eyes, Ferdinand knew what was going to happen. He smiled as the man pulled him into the centre of the circle, to multiple cheers from the crowd. To the slow beat, Ferdinand copied the moves Kudret made: step, cross his leg to the front, back to centre, step, cross behind, centre, step step… It ended with a turn, which the crowd cheered for encouragingly, and then the dance began again. The circle began to clap with the beat, a few singing the words. The rhythm slowly sped up, and Ferdinand kept the pace, grinning from ear to ear, absolutely infected with joy. When he finished the last spin, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Ferdinand gave a small bow to much laughter, and exited the circle to catch his breath.

He was not the only one, a few people here and there watching from outside the circles or leaning against the walls. Ferdinand saw Lorenz holding a glass of wine and watching another circle, where it looked like Khalid was challenging Byleth to a contest of back flips to the intense enjoyment of the crowd.

“Was the party getting to be too much for you?” Ferdinand asked, stopping beside him.

“A bit,” Lorenz said. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Let it not be said that I did not participate, though! I had my time in the centre with Khalid.”

“I danced for a while myself!” said Ferdinand. “Was Khalid a good teacher?”

“He was, at least until the point where he decided to toss me into the air,” Lorenz said with some disdain.

Ferdinand was delighted. With a little grin, he leaned in and asked in a low, conspiratorial tone, “Did you scream?”

Lorenz straightened. “I did not,” he replied, primly and clearly a little proud of himself.

Ferdinand laughed.

Lorenz made a face, but it softened quickly. After a moment’s hesitation, he rested a hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder.

“I haven’t seen you this happy in a while,” he said. “I am glad for it.”

Ferdinand smiled, covering Lorenz's hand with his own. “You are a good man, Lorenz. I feel lucky to have you as a friend.”

Lorenz blushed. “Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand grinned and nudged his shoulder. “I mean it!”

Lorenz flapped a hand. “You mean everything you say, you silly man! Please, let us speak of something else, before I cry.”

Ferdinand felt warm and playful with drink and affection, but he did not tease Lorenz further. They talked for a while as the night wore on, and Ferdiand did not speak of work as much. People bowed to them as they passed by on the way out of the hall, occasionally stopping to chat. The crowds thinned until there was only one circle, the people dancing less and more just swaying and singing the songs that played.

At one point, Khalid finally bowed out. The remaining Almyrans cried out, and their king had to insist several times before he was allowed to go, which confused Ferdinand as much as it amused him.

“Goodness, I can’t believe Claude left the party before I did!” Lorenz exclaimed. “Walk with me, Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand did, supporting his friend when he got a little wobbly on the way back to their guest rooms. Ferdinand wondered how the guests lodged at inns in the city itself managed to get back to their beds. For his help, Lorenz gave Ferdinand a fond kiss on the cheek and orders to go to sleep. Ferdinand hoped that Lorenz didn’t see on his face that he had plans otherwise, and even made the effort of opening and closing his door to give the impression that he had gone in before quietly creeping back the way he came.

The alcove Khalid had mentioned was nearly all the way back to the hall, but Ferdinand knew the old Castle Riegan after five years living there. He took a slightly roundabout path that avoided most of the departing revelers until he was nearly at his destination. He nodded politely to a couple of Almyrans, who saluted him but seemed to suspect nothing. He wondered what they would think of his clandestine meeting with their king.

Finally, he saw the stone bust of Khalid’s grandfather, the penultimate Sovereign Duke, that marked the beginning of the alcove. Ferdinand would have missed Khalid leaning against the wall if he wasn’t looking for him, hiding in the shadows with a cat-like smile on his face.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, soft and low.

Ferdinand’s heart thudded loudly in his chest.

Before he could say anything, Khalid stepped into the light of the hall.

“Walk with me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Ferdinand said.

They were quiet as they walked, the same tense air around them as when Ferdinand was making his way to the meeting. At one point, Khalid ducked into a servant’s door, beckoning Ferdinand to follow.

“Where are we going?” Ferdinand finally asked once the door was closed.

“To my room, if that’s alright with you,” Khalid replied. “I wanted to talk, and uh…”

Ferdinand did not hear Khalid trail off like that very often.

“And what?” he asked, fearing his treacherous heart would give away what he was thinking.

Khalid stopped walking and turned to face him. He seemed to mull over his words for a moment.

“It makes me really happy to see you again,” he said. “I meant it when I said I missed you, and that your letters were some of my favourite parts of the past two years.”

“But?” said Ferdinand.

“No but,” said Khalid. He paused again, and then, “Remember that night after we routed some bandits in Ordelia and got drunk off Lorenz’s wine?”

“Yes,” said Ferdinand.

“And I joked about you offering to bed me to help me relax for once?” asked Khalid.

“Yes,” said Ferdinand, more quietly.

Khalid was standing so close, but it was too dark for Ferdinand to see his face clearly. Ferdinand heard him take a breath.

“What if I wasn’t really joking back then?” he said.

“Khalid,” Ferdinand whispered.

“What if I’m not joking now?” Khalid whispered back.

Ferdinand felt dizzy.

“I can’t,” he gasped. “Not— I can’t just have a— a  _ fling _ with the King of Almyra!”

“What about with me?” Khalid asked. “What about not just a fling?”

When Ferdinand gaped audibly at him, Khalid said, “Ferdinand, I’ve been flirting with you for  _ years _ . I couldn’t help myself! You’re just so— so earnest. You think the best of people without debasing yourself in the process. You believe in a just world and are willing to make it happen. Back when we were at the academy at that party and we all played that kissing game, I volunteered because I wanted to kiss your stupid mouth even back then, and I  _ liked _ it. I like  _ you.” _

For a moment, the only thing in the quiet was Ferdinand’s breathing.

“I had a letter for you, the night that you told me you were leaving,” he said. “I was going to announce my intent to court you.”

In the darkness, Ferdinand saw Khalid close his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said.

“And now,” Ferdinand continued. “And now House Riegan is gone, and you’re so far away—”

“I’m King now,” Khalid said. “Isn’t that even better than courting a duke? The Emperor had consorts, right? I can have consorts, too.”

“I can’t abandon my post,” Ferdinand said. He was shaking.

“You don’t have to,” said Khalid. “You could stay Governor. Hells, you don’t even have to be a noble to lead anymore. Byleth and I made that clear.”

He didn’t say it outright, but Ferdinand and he both knew the reality. Becoming Khalid's consort would be the end of House Aegir. The dowry alone would cost nearly everything Ferdinand had. He would have nothing to give to an heir, if a child out of wedlock would even be accepted as one. The other lords would be all too happy to take his land and his power, for what he planned to do to theirs.

Everything Khalid had said made sense. It was just this one final sticking point.

“Hey,” Khalid said softly. His hand cupped Ferdinand’s cheek, his skin rough but so warm. “You don’t have to make a decision right now. There’s a lot going on for the both of us. Honestly, you could even be part way through courting me and decide I’d be a terrible husband!”

That pulled a weak laugh from Ferdinand. Khalid laughed, too, his thumb tracing Ferdinand’s cheekbone.

“Just know that I’m willing to commit as far as you are. This doesn’t have to be one night if you don’t want it to be,” he said.

Ferdinand took a deep breath.

“Alright,” he said.

“Alright as in—” Khalid started, but he stopped as Ferdinand leaned in and kissed him.

Khalid kissed back eagerly after his initial surprise, backing Ferdinand up against the wall of the servant’s passage. Ferdinand let him; he was certainly the broader of the two of them, but he felt safe with Khalid pressed up against him, covering him, shielding him from the outside world.

Eventually, they both had to break apart to catch their breaths.

“I have wanted to do that for a long time,” Ferdinand said.

“Me too,” said Khalid, and Ferdinand could hear the smile in his voice. “Once we make it back to my rooms, there’s a lot more I’ve wanted to do, too.”

Ferdinand took Khalid’s arm. “Let us go before we get caught by the poor staff who have been staying up for us.”

Khalid’s laugh was pure delight.

That night, Ferdinand learned the difference between sex and lovemaking. It was subtle, but Ferdinand knew by the end of the night which of the two was his favourite.

The next morning, negotiations continued, oblivious to what had happened the night before. Ferdinand felt like he was at the Academy again, stealing glances at his new beau during lecture. Joy seemed to buoy him through the day, giving him energy even hours into arguments over which face of which mountain in the Throat would belong to Fodlan or Almyra.

That evening, a full opera production was somehow squeezed into the great hall. The story was one of the Faerghan High Tales, involving King Loog and his companions Kyphon and Pan. As the actors sang their parts, a person standing to the side held up cards with the lines written in Almyran. This was immensely helpful, a few of Ferdinand’s friends told him later, but the translation wasn’t perfect. Most notably, as Kyphon was holding his dying love, lamenting his inability to save her, the crowd suddenly burst into chuckles.

“The way he says he is not strong enough, in Almyra, also means not good at sex,” Kudret explained.

Ferdinand covered his mouth. “Oh, no wonder!” he exclaimed.

Kudret laughed and slapped Ferdinand’s shoulder. “Do not worry so much! It makes the story better, I think. You Fodlaners are so serious! It is good to laugh at yourself sometimes!”

Ferdinand thought for a moment, but then he smiled and let his hand rest on the armourer’s shoulder. “You are absolutely right.”

Ferdinand stayed after the performance talking for a while, during which a note was slipped into his hand.  _ Meet me in the garden by the trellises _ , it had said, and so Ferdinand went. In the garden, where climbing roses crawled up the side of the castle on wooden supports, he found Khalid once again waiting for him. Khalid didn’t wait before pulling Ferdinand in for a kiss.

“We’re not doing this here, are we?” Ferdinand whispered teasingly.

“Do you want to?” Khalid asked. “Could be fun. The thrill of having to be quiet, about to be caught at any moment…”

Ferdinand shivered in Khalid’s arms.

“Oh, you like that?” Khalid purred. “As much as I’d love to take you up on it, though, I think we should opt for my room, this time.”

Ferdinand nodded and let Khalid pull him in for one more kiss before they departed, like shadows slipping through the night except for their stifled laughter.

The next day, negotiations were brief to allow time for the tournaments. There was wyvern, pegasi, and horse racing, jousting, and competitions for every class of weapon. Khalid made waves as he won yet another wyvern race, and Felix and Byleth were the final two in the sword competition. Ferdinand was a finalist in the jousts but did not win, which he chalked up to being unfamiliar with the sport. He did, however, come out on top in the lancing tournament.

As Khalid presented him with the champion’s medal, he leaned in to whisper in Ferdinand’s ear.

“Meet me by the birch alcove tonight,” he said.

The place turned out to be near Byleth’s quarters, and Ferdinand found Khalid already there despite feeling like he had left the festivities early.

“We can’t do this every night,” Ferdinand protested, even as he smiled and leaned into Khalid’s hand where it rested on his cheek.

“Can’t we?” asked Khalid.

Ferdinand couldn’t help but kiss him. He loved kissing him, loved the way his touch set his nerves alight. They were going about this all wrong, he thought. It was not becoming of a noble to be off galavanting about with his lover like this— before they were even courting! But, Ferdinand thought, he had done a number of things unbecoming of a noble so far in his life, and he knew well enough which ones had affected the quality of his heart.

Still, they did decide to lay low for a couple nights after their third meeting, with a promise to see each other again before the end of Khalid’s stay in Derdriu. Ferdinand stayed a little later at the evening gatherings, catching up with friends new and old. Ferdinand hadn’t realized just how lonely he was in Enbarr, and he determined that he would spend more time travelling to see them occasionally. He knew now that his aides could handle his absence, after all.

The night before the last day of negotiations, as Ferdinand was starting to think of saying goodnight, a hand caught his arm.

Ferdinand turned. “Oh, Your Majesty!” he said.

Byleth smiled their small, enigmatic smile. “I was just saying goodnight to everyone. Walk with me? You promised to give me a little of your time.”

Ferdinand smiled back sheepishly. “That I did,” he said. He had almost forgotten, with the whirlwind of treaty negotiations and celebrations and Khalid.

Together, they left the hall and made their way to Byleth’s rooms, thankfully unbothered by any hangers-on. Ferdinand chattered about things his friends did or said that evening, and Byleth listened. It was always something they were good at. They always listened, and then would make some strikingly insightful comment connecting current conversation to something said weeks or even months before.

When they reached the door to the royal quarters, Byleth invited Ferdinand in. “It has been a while since we have been able to speak more privately,” they said. “Why don’t I make some tea? It can be like old times. You like Southern Fruit blend, right?”

Ferdinand smiled. “I do, though perhaps an herbal would be better suited to the hour.”

Byleth nodded. “I have mint.”

“Perfect.”

Byleth busied themself with preparing the tea. The chambermaid stood by the wall looking awkward, perhaps still unused to her Sovereign’s independence.

“Now… how have you been?” Byleth asked.

Ferdinand took in a breath, then sighed. “Better, I think. I am not totally recovered, of course, but better. I think I was lucky. Normally, it takes a full nervous breakdown to admit one needs help.”

“I’m glad that you found your way before that,” Byleth said.

Ferdinand smiled to himself. “It was only because of Lorenz. You and Khalid’s support, as well. Your letters kept me going.”

Byleth smiled and poured tea for Ferdinand. “Have you gotten to speak to Khalid while you both are here?”

Ferdinand looked up, and the look Byleth gave him was so knowing that he felt his face go immediately aflame. He tried very hard not to glance back in the chambermaid’s direction.

“Er,” he said. “I have, some.”

Byleth nodded and sipped some of their tea. “Both of you have been working very hard. It makes me happy to see some of that paying off.”

Ferdinand relaxed a little. “It is true. As long as I have known him, Khalid has done some amazing things, but this might top them all.”

“I think so,” said Byleth.

There was a pause as they seemed to think. Ferdinand did not wish to interrupt.

“Both of you are similar, in some ways,” they said, carefully. “You both want to improve the world you live in, and will do most anything to do it, even giving up parts of yourselves.”

Ferdinand frowned, but took another sip of tea.

“I guess,” Byleth said, “I hope the both of you find something to keep, to build, just for yourselves.” 

Ferdinand was quiet for a long moment, even as Byleth signalled that they were done speaking by taking a drink of their tea.

Eventually, he said, “I hope so, too.” Then, swallowing, he asked, “Do you happen to know how to spell Khalid’s name?”

On the last full day, the treaty was finalized and signed by both Khalid and Byleth, to much enthusiasm from everyone. Some of it was simply relief at the end of so much back-and-forth over every detail. However, as the celebration ran on into the evening, it was clear to Ferdinand that most of the people in Castle Eisner that day had made a number of friends during the past week. Hopefully, it was enough for a lasting peace, he thought.

Dinner was again a mix of foods from both nations, including at least five whole roasted goats and a towering dessert that was doused in brandy and set aflame. After dinner was more dancing, with the two sets of musicians alternating sets so they could take breaks while the other group played. Ferdinand ended up in a circle with Khalid and Byleth, and at one point, he and Byleth tossed the Almyran king between them while he did tricks in the air.

“You are very strong!” Kudret commented later, when the musicians had traded out and pairs were forming for a waltz. “Or, perhaps it is simply that our King is very light?” The armourer laughed. “You know, it has been some time since we had a wyvern rider for a King. His father and grandfather were more traditional Almyran men— big, strong horse lords— like you!”

Ferdinand laughed, but Kudret grinned and nudged his shoulder.

“You know, you could get yourself a wife very easily in Almyra!” he said. “You would be a handsome suitor!”

Ferdinand tossed his hair. “Even looking like this?” All of the Almyrans he had seen had a variety of eye and skin colours, but their hair was always dark.

“Not a problem!” Kudret waved a hand. “You would be… how do you say… exotic!”

Ferdinand really laughed, then.

“I mean it!” Kudret said. “I know some women your age…”

Ferdinand held up his hands. “Oh, no, no! I couldn’t, I…”

His hand went to his breast, where he had paper folded inside his pocket.

“I have someone already in mind,” he finished.

Kudret’s eyes flashed in interest. “Who? You must tell me!”

“I can’t!” Ferdinand protested. “Courting in Fodlan is a very delicate process!”

Kudret squinted at him. “You are nervous,” said the armourer shrewdly. “You are asking tonight!”

Ferdinand pressed his lips together, trying not to smile.

“I am right!” Kudret cried.

Ferdinand shushed him. “Please, I have already said too much! Do not tell anyone, I beg you!”

Kudret smiled. “Alright, I will not. But you must tell me tomorrow how it goes!”

“You have my word,” Ferdinand promised.

Ferdinand danced on and off through the night, but Khalid did not approach him, and no note or message was given to him. Ferdinand tried not to let his nerves get to him, but they stayed at the back of his mind. Then, the moment Ferdinand considered going and finding Khalid himself, the man seemed to appear magically out of the crowds.

“Hello, Governor,” he said, coy.

Ferdinand couldn’t help but smile back. “Good evening, Your Majesty. Enjoying the festivities, I trust?”

“Of course, though the night is growing old, and we do have to depart in the morning,” Khalid said.

That is when Ferdinand expected some whispered secret along with a goodnight, but instead:

“I invited the Sovereign for a nightcap, but they were too tired, unfortunately. Would you like to join me in their stead?”

Ferdinand blinked, glanced briefly out at the people still in the hall. But then, he smiled and bowed. “How could I possibly refuse?”

Khalid smiled back, something softer than a smirk. “Excellent.”

Ferdinand took Khalid’s arm, and together, they walked down the main corridors to the guest rooms. They spoke of things without consequence which Ferdinand hardly remembered later over the pounding of his heart. Then, once they were inside Khalid’s room and the staff was dismissed, Ferdinand was against the wall, Khalid’s lips on his. It was easy for Ferdinand to lose himself in the kiss, letting it soothe his nerves.

“I missed you these past nights,” Khalid said in a low rumble.

“And I missed you,” Ferdinand replied.

Khalid led him to the bed, but just as he was about to pull Ferdinand into his lap, Ferdinand stopped him.

“I… I have something for you, first,” he said.

He reached inside his jacket and tugged the folded paper free. Khalid’s eyes widened a little upon seeing it, but he did not say anything.

“I have the original letter with me as well,” Ferdinand said. “But what I wanted to read to you was this…”

> _ Clear nights, stars over the water, _
> 
> _ Laughter from the belly, _
> 
> _ All the air is celebration. _
> 
> _ Umber locks in my fingers, _
> 
> _ Deep in your great heart I wonder if _
> 
> _ Ever you might have room for me. _
> 
> _ Kind eyes, rakish smile, _
> 
> _ Hands in mine, callous against callous. _
> 
> _ All the air is celebration, _
> 
> _ Lifting the fortress gates. _
> 
> _ Instead all I think of is the _
> 
> _ Darkness behind the servant’s door. _

When Ferdinand looked up again, Khalid was looking at him with something like awe.

Then, he broke out into a smile.

“Is that an acrostic?” he asked.

Ferdinand blushed, handing the paper over. “An attempt at one, yes.”

Khalid’s eyes darted over the poem, and he smiled again. “You learned how to spell my name! You must have written this sometime this week, then.” He looked up at Ferdinand, eyes soft and delighted. “You did all this for me?”

“And I have more,” Ferdinand said, taking Khalid’s hands.

“For years, I have trusted you to lead me to a new, better world,” he started. “I trusted myself to be a part of its making, in Adrestia and in Fodlan as a whole. I have learned how to use my nobility to not only protect my people, but lift them up.

“I know that becoming your consort will lose me the Duchy. Even if you do not demand a dowry, the lords will. Once they learn of my intent to provide education to everyone, to give the common folk the power to usurp them, they will delight in the excuse to strip me of my land and whatever else they can get their hands on.”

Ferdinand paused. Khalid had a frown line in the middle of his brow, and Ferdinand soothed it with his thumb.

“But, over this week, I have come to peace with that consequence. Have I not been working all this time towards my own obsolescence? So many of the Great Adrestian Houses have fallen or are near collapse due to the war. Is it not better, even beautiful, that the last should end not because of war, but… because of love?”

Khalid looked up at Ferdinand. His eyes were wet.

“You’ve really thought this through,” he said with a grin, though the thickness of his voice betrayed his emotion.

“I do not always, but I do when it matters,” Ferdinand said.

Khalid gave a little breathless laugh. “Well, it just so happens that I have something for you, too.”

Standing, he went to the bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out a box from inside.

“I feel a little embarrassed that I didn’t make something myself, now, but when you’re a king and have access to the finest craftspeople the country has to offer, it’s hard not to indulge.”

When Ferdinand opened the box, he saw a carefully folded handkerchief. It was the traditional Fodlan white, but brilliantly coloured Almyran flowers bloomed all around the border. Lifting it to his nose, he smelled sandalwood and pine, and he almost missed what was hidden underneath.

“Khalid—!”

At the bottom of the box was a small pin suitable for an ascot or lapel, a golden sun with a bright orange stone at its centre.

“I know the kerchief is traditional in Fodlan, and jewelry is traditional for Almyra,” Khalid explained.

“Does— does that mean you accept my suit?” Ferdinand blurted.

Khalid blinked, then burst into laughter.

“Yes! Yes, it does,” he said.

“Oh,” Ferdinand said, smiling so much it was starting to hurt. “I am glad.”

Khalid laughed again. “Me too.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, deliriously happy.

“Hey, so,” Khalid said once he had found himself again. “I know this isn’t very traditional in either of our countries, but I would still like to have you one more time before I go tomorrow.”

That time, when Khalid went to sit and pull Ferdinand into his lap, Ferdinand went with him.

“I would love for you to have me,” he said.

The final day was a brief one, with the Almyran delegation leaving after noon and all of the bustle involved in boarding all the luggage and people before then.

Kudret found Ferdinand in the lineup to see everyone off and surprised him with a strong embrace.

“Were you successful?” he asked in a low voice.

Ferdinand nodded and smiled.

Kudret grinned widely and slapped him on the arm. “Good man! I look forward to your invitation!”

As the armourer went on his way to board one of the ships, Lorenz leaned over and muttered, “Invitation to what?”

“The wedding, I imagine,” said Byleth from Lorenz’s right.

Ferdinand cried, “Your Majesty!” at the same time that Lorenz squawked,  _ “What?!” _

“You’re both being awfully loud for people who probably don’t want to be in the gossip mill,” Felix commented.

“I promise I will tell you as soon as I am able,” Ferdinand told Lorenz.

As soon as the delegation was aboard the ships, Khalid finally made his appearance. His wyvern sat patiently behind him with the others as he went down the line of Fodlaners, clasping arms with them while they wished him well. When he came to Ferdinand, his grip was just as strong as when they first greeted each other at the beginning of the week. Ferdinand tried not to be too obvious as he breathed in Khalid’s cologne one last time.

“Fair winds on your way home, Your Majesty,” he said.

“And safe roads on yours, Governor,” Khalid replied.

Just before they parted, Khalid winked, and Ferdinand felt the press of a folded square of paper in his palm as their hands slid apart. Ferdinand carefully put his hand in his pocket.

As Khalid finally came to Byleth, they smiled at him.

“King Khalid of the Seven Stars, I wish you well on your journey back to your country. May this past week go down in our respective histories as the beginning of a time of peace and prosperity between us.”

Khalid smiled back, grasping Byleth’s arm.

“I hope that one day, our nations will share a friendship as strong as ours. This week, I believe that I saw its beginning. Good health to you and your people, and may the sun shine as brightly when we meet again.”

After that, Khalid went to his wyvern and mounted her. With a shouted command, all the riders took to the skies and the ships unfurled their sails. The Fodlaners cheered and tossed flower petals into the air while the Almyrans on deck waved. Khalid did a loop in the air, his wyvern’s white scales shining in the sun.

As the initial noise died down, Ferdinand couldn’t help himself and pulled the paper from his pocket.

On the face of the square was written:

> _ I’m not a poet, but I tried. _
> 
> _ \- K _

Ferdinand unfolded the note and read it, then read it a second time. Tears had sprung to his eyes.

“Ferdinand,” came a voice to his right.

Lorenz was looking at him, eyes wide. He had clearly read the poem over his shoulder.

Ferdinand laughed, even as a tear escaped one eye and fell down his cheek.

“As soon as we are alone,” he said. “I promise I will tell you everything.”

And he did.

> _ Feather-light kisses and _
> 
> _ Empty bottles of wine are _
> 
> _ Revelations for me, _
> 
> _ Dreaming always of _
> 
> _ Impossible things. _
> 
> _ Never before have I wanted _
> 
> _ Another life but _
> 
> _ Now I look forward to _
> 
> _ Dreaming one for both of us. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this all the way to the end!! You're a star!
> 
> If you wanna yell with me on twitter, I'm @3RatMoon1


End file.
